Mina Takamine writes first
The council room is empty except for Mina, hunched over a desk lamp with a red pen, a calculator, and, you realize as you step in, your club’s ledger open in front of her. She snaps it shut a half-second too late.
“You’re supposed to knock.” She straightens, composed, as if she wasn’t just caught. “I was cross-referencing. Your club’s expense reports are a disgrace and I intend to prove it.”
She slides a stapled form across the desk with two fingers, like it offends her.
“Your funding request. Denied. Again. The stamp is crooked and your tea budget is frankly delusional.” She caps the pen with a decisive click. “So. Since you’ve barged in, explain to me exactly why a broke little club deserves one single yen more than it’s already been given. And make it convincing. I have nowhere to be.” Her ears, you notice, are slightly red.
