The campus employment office was busier than Haruki had expected for a Wednesday morning, filled with students clutching resumes and wearing the particular expression of people trying to balance academic responsibilities with financial necessity. He'd been putting off this visit for weeks, telling himself he didn't really need the extra income, that his part-time work-study position in the library was sufficient.
But that was before he'd started thinking seriously about Christmas gifts. Before he'd realized that wanting to do something special for Noa—something that went beyond the careful budget calculations that governed most of his spending—required more resources than he currently had.
"Next," called the work-study coordinator, a tired-looking graduate student who probably understood the financial pressures of college life better than anyone.
Haruki approached the desk with his hastily updated resume, trying to project more confidence than he felt about his limited work experience.
"I'm looking for part-time work," he said. "Something that would work around my class schedule."
"What kind of experience do you have?"
"I work in the library now—shelving, helping with research requests, some basic computer troubleshooting. Before that, I worked at a bookstore in high school."
The coordinator scanned his resume with practiced efficiency. "Good grades, reliable work history. Are you open to different types of positions?"
"Pretty much anything that's legitimate and doesn't conflict with my classes."
"There are a few options." She pulled out a folder of job listings. "The campus bookstore needs someone for evening shifts. The writing center is looking for tutors—your literature background would be good for that. And..." She paused, studying something on her computer screen. "Actually, there's something that just came in this morning that might be perfect."
"What is it?"
"Professor Akizuki is looking for a research assistant. Someone to help with data entry, interview transcription, basic research tasks. It's only ten hours a week, but it pays well, and she specifically requested someone with strong writing skills and an interest in psychology or philosophy."
Haruki felt a flutter of interest mixed with nervousness. Working for Professor Akizuki would be fascinating, but it would also mean spending even more time in the orbit of his complicated situation with Mirei.
"What would the work involve, exactly?"
"Let me call her office and get the details." The coordinator dialed an extension, spoke briefly with someone, then hung up. "She's available to meet with you right now if you're interested. Her office is in the humanities building, third floor."
Twenty minutes later, Haruki found himself sitting across from Professor Akizuki in an office that looked exactly like what he would have expected—books everywhere, comfortable chairs, a tea service set up on a side table, and the kind of warm lighting that made difficult conversations feel safer.
"Thank you for coming so quickly," Professor Akizuki said, pouring tea for both of them. "I realize this is short notice, but my previous research assistant graduated unexpectedly last semester, and I'm behind on several projects."
"What kind of research are you working on?"
"Several things. A longitudinal study on attachment patterns in college students—which I think would interest you, given your girlfriend's thesis topic. A paper on the role of honest communication in relationship satisfaction. And a book project about the intersection of philosophy and psychology in understanding human connection."
Haruki accepted the tea gratefully, using the moment to process this information. "That does sound interesting. What would my role be?"
"Primarily data entry and transcription. I conduct a lot of interviews, and I need someone to help me organize and code the responses. Some basic research assistance—finding sources, checking citations, that sort of thing. Occasionally helping with interview scheduling or participant communication."
"How many hours per week?"
"Ten to twelve, depending on project deadlines. Flexible scheduling—you could work around your classes, even do some of the work from your dorm room if needed." Professor Akizuki studied his face carefully. "I should mention that some of the research involves sensitive topics. Relationship dynamics, attachment issues, emotional vulnerability. You'd be hearing a lot of personal stories from interview subjects."
"I think I can handle that."
"I'm sure you can. But I want to be transparent about the nature of the work." She paused, then added more directly, "I also want to acknowledge that hiring you might create some complexity, given the situation with Mirei in our class."
Haruki felt heat creep up his neck. "You know about that."
"I know that you have a complicated history, that she transferred here partly because of that history, and that you're both handling the situation with remarkable maturity." Professor Akizuki's voice was matter-of-fact, neither judgmental nor overly sympathetic. "What I don't know is whether working closely with me would make that situation more difficult for any of you."
"I don't think so. Mirei and I have established boundaries, and she's working on moving forward. Noa and I are solid." He paused, considering. "Actually, I think having something productive to focus on might be helpful."
"Good. Then let's talk about practical matters."
They spent the next twenty minutes discussing schedules, expectations, and the specific projects he'd be working on. The pay was better than his library job, the work sounded genuinely interesting, and Professor Akizuki was the kind of supervisor who seemed to care more about quality than quantity.
"When could you start?" she asked as their meeting wound down.
"Whenever you need me. Tomorrow, if that works."
"Excellent. I'll have some materials ready for you by Friday—interview transcripts to start with, and some background reading on attachment theory." She handed him a folder with basic information. "And Haruki? I think you'll find this work more personally relevant than you might expect."
"What do you mean?"
"You'll see. Sometimes the best way to understand your own patterns is to study them in other people."
---
Haruki left Professor Akizuki's office feeling energized in a way he hadn't expected. The prospect of earning extra money was satisfying, but more than that, he was genuinely excited about the work itself. The chance to contribute to research that might help other people navigate the kind of relationship challenges he and Noa had been working through felt meaningful in a way that shelving library books never had.
He found Noa in their usual spot in the library, surrounded by her own research materials and looking slightly frazzled.
"How's the thesis coming?" he asked, settling into the chair beside her.
"Slowly. I'm drowning in data, and I can't figure out how to organize it all into something coherent." She looked up from her laptop with tired eyes. "How was your morning? You said you had some errands to run."
"Actually, I got a job. A second job, I mean. Research assistant for Professor Akizuki."
Noa's expression shifted from tired to interested. "Really? What kind of research?"
"Attachment theory, relationship dynamics, communication patterns. Basically everything you're working on for your thesis, but from a different angle."
"That's amazing! And perfect timing—you could probably use some of her research to support your own understanding of the topics." Noa closed her laptop, giving him her full attention. "What made you decide to look for another job?"
Haruki felt himself flush slightly. "I wanted some extra income. For Christmas gifts and things like that."
"Christmas gifts?" Noa's voice carried a note of something he couldn't quite identify. "Haruki, you don't need to spend money on me. I don't need expensive presents."
"I know you don't need them. But I want to be able to do something special for you. Something that shows how much you mean to me."
"You show me that every day. In how you listen to me, how you support my work, how you handle complicated situations with such thoughtfulness." She reached for his hand across the table. "I don't need gifts to know you love me."
"But I want to give you things. Not because I think you need them, but because I like the idea of surprising you, of finding something that makes you smile."
Noa was quiet for a moment, processing this. "Can I tell you something?"
"Always."
"The most meaningful gift you could give me isn't something you buy. It's time. Experiences. Things we do together." She squeezed his hand gently. "Like that afternoon we spent in the park when we first held hands. Or the night you read me poetry in the bookstore. Those moments matter more to me than anything you could purchase."
"So you're saying I shouldn't get you Christmas presents?"
"I'm saying the best presents don't necessarily cost money. But..." She smiled, the expression that always made his chest feel warm. "I'm also saying that if you want to work for Professor Akizuki because the research interests you, that's wonderful. Just don't feel like you have to earn money to prove you care about me."
"What if I want to do both? Work on interesting research and save up to do something special for you?"
"Then I think you're very sweet, and I'm lucky to have someone who thinks about my happiness so carefully."
They spent the rest of the afternoon working side by side, Noa on her thesis and Haruki reading through the materials Professor Akizuki had given him. The research was fascinating—interviews with college students about their relationship patterns, data about how childhood experiences shaped adult attachment styles, case studies that felt remarkably similar to his own experiences.
*Sometimes the best way to understand your own patterns is to study them in other people,* Professor Akizuki had said, and Haruki was beginning to see what she meant.
"Listen to this," he said, reading from one of the interview transcripts. "Twenty-year-old male, describing his first serious relationship: 'I kept waiting for her to realize I wasn't worth the effort. Every time she chose to spend time with me instead of someone else, I was surprised. I couldn't understand why she'd want to be with someone so ordinary.'"
Noa looked up from her own work. "That sounds familiar."
"Doesn't it? And here's the researcher's note: 'Subject displays classic anxious attachment patterns—fear of abandonment combined with low self-worth, leading to hypervigilance about partner's commitment level.'"
"Did you see yourself in that description?"
"Uncomfortably clearly." Haruki flipped through more pages. "But here's what's interesting—the follow-up interview six months later shows significant improvement in attachment security after consistent reassurance and open communication with his partner."
"Meaning people can change their patterns if they're willing to do the work."
"Meaning we can change our patterns. Together."
Noa smiled, the kind of smile that held both affection and pride. "I love that you're going to be working on this research. I love that you'll be contributing to understanding that might help other people figure out what we're figuring out."
"And I love that I'll be earning enough money to take you somewhere special for Christmas."
"Where did you have in mind?"
"I don't know yet. Somewhere we can make the kind of memories that matter more than gifts."
"Now that," Noa said, "sounds perfect."
As evening settled over the library and other students began packing up their things, Haruki felt the particular satisfaction that came from a day well-spent. A new job that would challenge him intellectually, research that might help him understand his own relationship patterns, and the prospect of being able to do something special for the person he loved.
It wasn't a grand gesture or a dramatic change. Just small steps toward building the kind of life he wanted, with the kind of person who made that life feel worth building.
Sometimes, he was learning, the best ambitions were the small ones.
---
*End of Chapter 15*