What you’ve heard is true, I don’t just do Fire Emblem?? I’ve actually played at least one other video game! 😮😮😮😮
This is smaller (and less smutty) than what I usually write, but it was an inkling of an idea I had and I’m trying to get writing done more consistently these days sooooo…
ANYWAY! Short & sweet (or at least I hope so!) I played most of the game feeling the pits for poor, long-suffering Kawakami ;_; So I’m writing this story about good, tired girls finally getting the break they deserve for all the good, tired girls who haven’t gotten theirs yet.
💕💫 Please take a look over at AO3, or keep reading below! Thank you!! 💕💫💕💫
Sadayo had the kind of life where anything worth doing needed to be worth doing simultaneously with everything else. So, sitting in the teacher’s lounge, she devoured her plain boxed lunch, nimbly using her chopsticks to pluck up slices of chicken and clumps of rice with one hand, while she alternated between scrawling red marks all over her students papers-really? they got that one wrong? it was on there as a total gimme!-and picking up her phone to text clients and coordinate tonight’s appointments-she couldn’t even get up the ardor to complain about Mr. Wednesday Night, the jerk; if it weren’t for jerks, she’d have no clients at all.
Spurred on by the sonorous rhythm of the heavy rain beating the windows, she’d truly hit her flow (if you could call it that). At this pace she’d only have to leave work two hours late–three, tops! Accounting for her appointments tonight, she’d be home barely after midnight and coast right into a comfortable (nearly) four hours of sleep. Score!
In fact, she was so in the zone, it was a good five minutes before she even noticed she’d deposited a great dollop of katsu sauce on her sweater. When she eventually did, she leaned back in her chair and unleashed a righteous groan-as she didn’t do enough laundry to do already!
The ebullient voice of the TV announcer chattered away, a few strident decibels louder than the pelting of the rain, as Sadayo took a wet nap from her purse. What’s she got to be so happy about, anyway?? However, dabbing lightly at the brown stain on her sweater, she unconsciously attuned to the gibbering on the TV, and catching the final digits in a string of numbers. “35, 39, 18…”
Her wet nap fell to the floor.
Again, those numbers were: 1, 3, 8…
She scrambled for her purse, opening it…
throwing aside packs of complimentary tissues…
greasy-feeling business cards…
and the cutesy hair barrette from last night’s appointment, she chucked that right across the room, nearly nailing Ms. Usami in the process.
“And the final number… 18!”
The chair shrieked its resistance as Sadayo stood from behind her desk on shaky legs. She couldn’t read it. It was dark in here, gloomy. holding the holy paper artifact before her in front of the window. At that moment, though it may’ve just been the fevered imagination of her overworked mind, Sadayo was sure the sun burst from behind those gloomy gray clouds, illuminating her like a spotlight.
Mr. Ushimaru grimaced at her from behind the folded flap of his newspaper. “Kawakami, are you quite all right?”
The ticket in her shuddering hands glowed like a beacon, blazing with energy, announcing to all and sundry the inscribed numbers of her victory. 1-3-8-14-35-39-18!
And then, she collapsed.
Sadayo woke up a few minutes later, to the sound of buzzing halogen lights and Mr. Ushimaru’s grousing about his bad back. Usami had corralled him (and a passing studio) to carry her all the way to the nurse’s office. The weak cot groaned as she tried to sit up. Still woozy, she could only manage herself up on her elbows. Her knuckles ached like crazy.”Will you be all right to get home?” Ms. Usami asked, as Mr. Ushimaru tottered out of the room like a grumpy mountain. Solicitous, but cautious of wounding Sadayo’s meager pride, the older woman continued, “If you need money for a cab…”
Fist gripped like a vice around the lotto ticket, Sadayo suddenly grinned from ear to ear. “Oh no, I think I’ll be just fine.”
It was somewhere around seventy minutes into the Grand & Eternal Bliss Package, around the time of the two-hundred-and-sixteenth clack of the bamboo fountain and the four-hundred-and-third individual foot rub (yes, she’d counted) that Sadayo’s phone rang–shaking her out of her lavender-and-sandalwood-scented inner tranquility. “Crap!” she hissed, flinching on instinct for her bag. They’d kill her! Aside from Mr. Wednesday Night, she’d managed to score two other appointments tonight and, and “I never called out!”It was somewhere around seven seconds into her manager’s screeching tirade that the perennially-cowed Sadayo let out an abrupt, involuntary cackle as the reality of her situation came crashing down on her like a wave. Her manager, caught completely off-guard, stammered into bemused silence, offering Sadayo the picture-perfect, exact opportunity she’d fantasied about for months–years! Her chest swelled, her body went rigid, and, taking a belt out a climactic “You know what, you chauvinistic, chain-smoking scumbag? I QUIT!!” the triumphant snap of her cheap mobile phone the punctuation to not only that statement, but several years of occupational mistreatment. Pride made her dizzy, her body went light as a feather, and she gave herself over a chorus of cackling so ribald it’d shake the heaven’s firmament itself, and she didn’t stop until she realized the woman massaging her feet had stopped her massage in order to… fix her with a wide-eyed, questioning glance.
“Sorry about that, hon,” Sadayo said, dipping her head and trying to will away the blush that scrawled across her cheeks. “Bit of… unfinished business…” The woman nodded, affecting a polite smile, as she returned to her work. A consummate professional, the masseuse made no mention of how her hands were assaulted by the wriggling and squirming of a rather mortified set of toes; Sadayo futilely trying to sublimate the embarrassment writhing through her. “You have twenty minutes left,” she said, politely.
“Twenty minutes? Feels like I just got here.” Sadayo groaned and lolled her head back, staring at the ceiling. No way! This was the beginning of a new life, she wanted to celebrate–heck, she should at least be drunk!
And so, producing a trio of crisp, new 10000-yen bills from her purse, she put on her most confident face as she said… “How about another hour…” She spread the bills, fanning herself with a grin. “Just between you and me?”
Sadayo thrilled in the avaricious look that lit up her masseuse’s eyes–a 30000 yen tip was too good to pass up, Sadayo was all too painfully aware of that. However, in the wake of the pecuniary thrill that coursed through her, she noticed just how tired her masseuse’s eyes were, behind the glossy excitement her tip inspired. A less-discerning client might not have caught, how the pretty, petite young woman’s shoulders hunched with the strain of a long day, or the here-and-there flyaway hairs she’d probably had no time to fix between appointments.
“It’s rough, isn’t it?” Sadayo asked.
“It pays the bills,” the masseuse replied, with surprising straightforwardness.
“Wears you out, though.”
The girl shrugged, applying a firm pressure to Sadayo’s insoles.
Sadayo resisted the urge to gleefully squirm. Instead, bright as if a light bulb had popped into being above her head, she asked, “Hey, what’s your name?”
“Chika,” the girl replied.
“Chika, huh? Cute.”
The masseuse shook her head, her cheeks glowing a bit.
“Y’know,” Sadayo said, puffing up her chest, and playing like this wasn’t the only satisfying physical contact she’d had in years. “With firm hands like yours, I don’t know if I could take another hour, so how about we call it even?” Sadayo reached down to gently tuck the folded bills into the pocket of Chika’s uniform. Then, she summoned her masseuse’s gaze with a finger beneath her chin. “I’m kind of a masseuse myself…. o-of a sort…”
“Except you… kind of just quit, didn’t you?” Chika asked, unblinking. Her cheeks were bright as cherry blossoms.
“Well…” Sadayo tilted her gaze away for a second, lips spreading in a sheepish grin. She patted her hand hand amiably along the massage table beside them. “How’d you like to be my final job?”
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this work, I’m available for commissions and I’ve got a ton of other work on my site, <a href=”http://www.bespokesmut.com”>bespokesmut.com</a>. Or, if you’d like some smutty flash fiction of your own, feel free to drop a request into my <a href=”http://zoegmiller.tumblr.com/ask”>ask box</a> and I’ll do my best to accommodate you!