A/N: I just want to preface this work by saying a couple of things. First, I absolutely adore the characters from Aggretsuko. But I particularly dislike the pacing of the show; though I know it's a cartoon, I love delving deeper into characters. So sadly because there will probably never be a book about these quirky characters, I've taken matters into my own hands. The only major change I can think of though is I had the karaoke scene between Haida and Retsuko occur 5-6 months after the "incident."

Secondly, this story/rambling/whatever it is will contain content warnings, including: character trauma, mentions of assault/harassment, moderate sexual content, and discussion of serious psychological issues and self-reflection. But it will also contain humor and —of course— a buttload of romance and relationship development. As mentioned before, I love the show but want to dive deeper into the psyche of the characters, especially after series 3.

And finally, this is purely for my own entertainment. Writing helps me cope with my own struggles and is a coping mechanism. I find I relate highly to a lot of the individuals in this show and feel that their skills, fears, and flaws can be even more exemplified. I'm not sure how much I'll write but overall, I hope you enjoy it as much as I have scrawling, typing, and even researching (and apologize if it ends up just being a mod-podge of madness)

Additional A/N: This is my human A/U in which I will do my best to reflect the initial location & cultural references of Japan. However, I do want to include more diversity to the original characters, as well. Cover artwork solely belongs to eddanko.


Retsuko nervously balanced her weight from one foot to the other, wringing her purse handles through her sweating hands. She glanced up at the clock: 5:09pm. It should be time now, any minute... Retsuko continued to squirm slightly in the chair, feeling her heartbeat pounding in her head, her internal monologue bombarding one question after the other.

'Oh my god...what do I even say? How much am I supposed to talk about...it? What if she thinks I'm stupid for feeling this way?'

Retsuko perched one shaking hand against the arm of the chair, holding her head up underneath her chin. Her eyes slowly surveyed the spotless, almost sickly white room. A large fish tank was stationed near the corner of the opposite wall and Retsuko allowed herself to exhale slightly as she watched a blue tang propel itself forward with propelling fins. It seemed so carefree, without a worry in the world, gliding above the multi-colored corals.

She briefly took notice of her reflection against the cloudy glass. It was distorted but there was no denying the darkened lines under her bloodshot eyes, her face paler than usual. Feeling her self-consciousness creeping in, the accountant returned her attention to the fish.

'I wonder what it's like to be a fish. It looks so calming.'

The door directly to the right of where Retsuko was sitting opened without warning, with a slight 'creeeaaak' and the poor young woman nearly bit her tongue from jumping up, her hand hitting her jaw squarely from where it had just been resting. Flushing, she quickly shifted around to see if anyone had seen her silly reaction and it just then occurred to her that she was the only one in the lobby.

Her embarrassment, however, was replaced by anxiety within seconds. The slight clicking of heels echoed through the doorway before a tall woman, whose beauty contended with even that of Washimi's, appeared, the upper half of her torso leaning against the frame.

"Hi, Retsuko?" Her steely grey eyes looked down to meet a pair of timid, hazel ones.

"Y-yes, hello." Retsuko barely managed to get out, standing so abruptly that the chair she had been sitting on momentarily ago skidded across the tiled flooring and thudded into the wall. She felt sweat beading behind her neck as she took in the woman's presence. Her dark hair was pinned up loosely in a large bun, making her appear even taller than she probably was. She might be taller than Haida, even without shoes. The simple, lavender skirt suit that she donned further emphasized an aura of congeniality, yet professionalism could be clearly defined in her posture.

The woman, whose eyes crinkled around the corners, gave a still shaking Retsuko a kind smile. "Nice to meet you. Please, follow me this way."

She swiftly turned on her heel, gliding back down the corridor.

'Damn, she even walks like a model.' Retsuko thought begrudgingly, who was now very aware of her stout legs shuffling as quickly as they could into the narrow hallway.

The young woman felt her hands continuing to tremble as she kept looking down at her Mary Janes, avoiding any gazes that may pass over her from figures that may be standing in open office doorways. After reaching the back of the corridor, Retsuko followed her new acquaintance into the last room, stepping inside a pastel-blue painted room with two dark navy love-seats. She turned to see on the left a long cushioned window bench, surrounded by pillows of different patterns and textures. A beautiful view of the city was visible through the transparent curtains and Retsuko could barely make out the familiar honking of horns and sputtering of motorbikes.

"Please, sit down," the lilted voice of the women whose office she now stood in drew her back into reality and suddenly Retsuko felt her stomach tighten as she claimed one of the love-seats closest to the window.

Forcing herself to walk down the street to this unfamiliar building was hard enough, but it never occurred to her exactly how this initial consultation would proceed. Avoiding eye contact, Retsuko began to find interest in one of the potted plants by the window bench, it's leaves plump and full of life. Her mother always had a green thumb and would have been able to identify the specimen within a heartbeat, but Retsuko's simply followed the shape of fronds. For each one, she took a deep breath, attempting to appear collected.

But the clenching of her abdomen and the newly forming lump in her throat continued to persist.

"My name is Tsuruko Arai," continued the woman, who was now holding a tablet that she had retrieved from her desk from the other side of the room. Retsuko watched as she strode past bookshelves near the opposite wall, which held an extremely impressive collection of materials. She settled herself into the remaining chair next to Retsuko, a slight smile still gracing her lips.

"But you can call me Tsuruko." Retsuko was still struggling to meet her gaze, instead now looking down at her interlocking fingers.

'Such informality...and we've only just met each other.' Retsuko glanced up to see Tsuruko pull a lock of stray hair behind her ear, activating her tablet from sleep mode with the other hand and balancing it on her lap. The two locked eyes briefly before Retsuko quickly resumed her fixation with her fingers, attempting to swallow the knot in her throat for the second time.

"So," Tsuruko cleared her throat and Retsuko could feel her eyes hovering over her person. She was now sitting perched on the love-seat, silently tapping her style against the side of her thigh. "Why don't you start by telling me why you're here today?"

It was such a simple question and yet never in a million years did Retsuko predict that it would be uttered, let alone have any answer prepared for it. Her head, if possible, felt even more heavy and the weight from her throat was being dragged down into her chest, like rocks sinking to the bottom of a stream.

"I-I'm...here because," Retsuko started softly. "I'm here...because."

'No...please don't start crying. Please don't start crying.'

Ironically, she felt like she could laugh. It was just as she had presumed: she wasn't strong enough. This would never work and she only had herself to blame. It obviously was her fault to begin with and these feelings were a product of her selfishness and idiocy.

Retsuko found herself peering back out the window, the golden and deep oranges of the sun's rays swimming in her tear-clouded eyes. If it wasn't for this feeling of suffocation, she might actually find herself appreciating the landscape.

"I-I'm sorry," she sniveled. From below the ringing of her ears and pounding temple, she could hear the sound of what sounded like tissues being quickly pulled from a box. Through her watery vision she barely made out the purple-cladded figure who was offering her the Kleenexes. She bowed her head forward, hiccuping.

"Th-thank you. But I can't...I-I can't do this. I'm really sorry."

There was a pregnant pause as Retsuko again tried to focus on her breathing. The familiar sound of clicking heels filled the air before the faint scribble of pen against paper could be heard. Tsuruko appeared before her again, holding out a small piece of paper that could easily be mistaken for a fortune cookie slip.

"I just ordered some new business cards so here's my number for now. Whether you'd like to leave or stay is perfectly fine with me...but just know you are under no circumstances obligated to share anything with me." Retsuko, who was trying ever so hard not to blubber (but was failing miserably) could see the kind grey eyes studying her through her pooling eyes. She knew, deep down, that this complete stranger, obviously felt empathy for the young accountant. But how could she know what she was feeling? Retsuko felt like, during the past six months, she had been tossed into a whirlpool of emotions, ripping her apart. No one would EVER know what she had experienced. She was better off being alone.

Silently, the strawberry-blonde young woman stood, clutching her purse and the piece of paper close to her chest. Tears pebbled onto her sweater, and she rapidly tried to blink away the wetness in her eyes, blink away reality.

Blink away the world.

She didn't remember stumbling out of the office or profusely leaving a string of apologizes behind her. Or the concerned stares she received from the secretaries at the front desk. She didn't remember fleeing out of the revolving door and bustling through the rush hour crowd on the sidewalk. Each time she brushed against a petticoat or jacket it felt like flirting with fire, the flames threatening to surround her wrists and waist.

Chest heaving and legs feeling like lead, she only had her mind set on one place where she could really feel like she could escape from the world. The one place that she truly felt she could find solace.

It felt like days had gone by before Retsuko's heart skipped a beat when she finally saw the alluring red glow of the karaoke sign. The bewildered employee at the front, who Retsuko surprisingly didn't recognize, quickly received her credit card and ushered her into a room, concern evident on his furrowed brow as she closed the sturdy door behind her.

'9091-89. 9091-81. 9091-89'

Retsuko's trembling fingers traced the outline of the song selection tool as the six digits repeated over and over in her head. All it would take was those simple numbers and she would be better. She wouldn't need to think about returning back to that medicinal lobby; no one would need to listen to her unnecessarily complain about trivial problems. All she needed was this six digit song number.

Stifling her sniffles, Retsuko pushed the buttons slowly on the screen, her fingers still shaking from earlier. The room seemed so warm, and made her feel nauseous again. After a few seconds when Retsuko selected the play button, she realized whoever had been in the booth previously before her had turned the karaoke machine volume down.

The humming of a guitar riff filled the booth at such a low amplification that Retsuko could whisper the lyrics and still could hear herself over the instrumental portion. She suddenly felt her shoulders quiver and her eyes welled up with tears again.

'Why? Why?! Why is this happening to ME?!"

She wanted to sing, to bear her entire soul to the empty booth. Yet each time she reached for the microphone with a quivering hand or tried to dispel the dry lump in her throat, she felt as though she were drowning, suffocating.

The metal chorus continued to quietly ring about the room as Retsuko slumped against the wall, gulping in the largest breath of air before she let heaved out one of the most guttural, strangled cries that had ever escaped her lips. She held on to a thin hope that it would allow for a cathartic effect yet knew deep down that it was a futile attempt.

And every time she closed her eyes she saw the same scene on replay: the masked figure. The blade. The concrete sidewalk rushing up from the ground to meet her.

Sobbing, Retsuko shielded her eyes away from the glowing cool-tones of the karaoke monitor, wishing the lights would engulf her whole. She could hardly imagine what that would feel like, to suddenly become light particles and exist temporarily in the world. But instead she was here, sprawled on the floor with a weight that refused to abandon her chest.

It was then that she realized she didn't want to be alone.

It hit her like an electrical shock. This wasn't a new pattern, she could recognize that. Her mind, after each and every time she closed her eyes, became a constant battlefield of confusion and fear.

Crawling over to the coffee table, Retsuko groped for her cell phone while hissing as a burning sensation ripped through her forehead. Through blurry vision she found the last-call return widget and allowed the phone to plop onto her lap. Who had she even dialed? They wouldn't even hear the accountant's normally sweet greeting upon picking up; instead, they would be met with the audible sounds of uncontrollable weeping and the barely detectable heavy metal music playing in the background.

Retsuko felt a crimson blush spread over her face, from both mortification and the suspected fever she was coming down this. She hung up, tossing the phone lamely across the room before curling herself into a ball under the coffee table, hoping she would never have to leave the booth until she drew her very last breath.