Katawa Shoujo - Akira Satou Route

Act 4-8 Shatter

A plastic 'wet floor' sign hits the tile with a dull thud, followed by the squeaky rolling of mop-bucket wheels. The fourth floor lab is now ready for future use - its tables wiped down, its cabinets and drawers restocked, and the floor cleared of any blemishes. Everything is arranged to perfect order.

Despite the amount of work I've had to do, today has not been a very heavy day. Besides post-project evaluations and fact checks for the last major experiment, not a single thing has happened in this building since I got here at five. If the groans of some chemists working overtime are to be believed, nothing happened in the morning before I got here either.

My hand hovers over my pocket after I put the cleaning supplies back into the closet, checking to make sure I've still got the object to be delivered -- a black clip-purse that was left in Lilly's room last night. I don't even have to go snooping through its contents to know who it belongs to.

It was an interesting request to say the least, considering the fact that Lilly is now aware of my feelings for her sister. She gave it to me when I saw her for lunch, but it was no surprise that she had nothing to say about the matter -- neither of us seems comfortable enough to bring up my confession, least of all Hanako who shies away at the mere mention of Akira's name.

Even though last night has become a source of awkward silence, it's still hardly something I can complain about if it gives me another chance to see her. With any luck we'll get off of work around the same time, since she's staying late to get things packed and tie up loose ends while I've got to put in a few more hours tonight anyway.

Thankfully, Akira isn't the sort who prefers a big purse. It's a tight fit, but it fits into my pocket nonetheless. No need to be that one guy who carries around a purse.

Thinking about it now, has it really been an entire week? It was only last Tuesday that I was dancing with Akira at a jazz concert, but somehow it feels like it was yesterday. Time has been flying by so quickly, and I don't know whether to blame exams for that, or if it's because I'm helpless to convince her to stay.

However, being Tuesday afternoon, I'm bound to run into Tetsuo as well. When it comes to him, I don't even know what to think anymore, whether I should be on my toes around him or if I should dissociate myself with him entirely considering the mess with Akira.

Speaking of which, Tetsuo asked me to drop by his office after I was done with the fourth floor. I'm not sure how I could get it any cleaner at this point, so I head to the elevator with reluctance and press the white plastic button, highlighting a '3' on the panel.

What upcoming tasks could there be? There's talk of some more testing for the anesthetic they worked with, but I don't recall anything other than that. Contrary to what both of the bosses have told me, the janitor doesn't seem to play a very vital role compared to the actual scientists -- why should I be necessary for that?

Besides to clean up like usual, of course.

A muted 'ding' passes through my ears as the elevator opens, my feet carrying me to Mr. Setou's office out of habit. Today the door is ajar, as if Tetsuo were welcoming anyone to just come in and do whatever they wanted.

I peek my head around the doorway to see Tetsuo with his feet propped up on the desk, scribbling away on a clipboard. Black suit, black tie, and black combed-back hair - nothing out of the ordinary save the the lethargic expression on his face. His foot taps impatiently against the air, making a barely audible 'pat' each time his heel comes into contact with the table.

A few knocks against the door frame serve to alert him of my presence, his amber eyes meeting mine before he gestures for me to enter.

Rather than cut straight to business, however, he grabs his phone off of the desk and flips through it with one hand, taking his feet down and sitting up in his chair. Papers are shuffled and sorted while a few notes are signed in practiced yet lethargic motions, all without taking his eyes away from the glowing screen.