They had graduated from wasting the afternoon away in a sandbox or by the swings to special snippets of the day spent sitting across of each other at a desk meant for a single person, talking to tune of the quiet click of her fingers on the keyboard. Ginko Murakami was not like other girls her age – she had known that on her fifth birthday, when she had asked for a computer for Christmas when others would have wanted a puppy, or a pony. That said, she did not relate to boys the same way other girls did. Other girls batted their eyelashes, made bento with silly octopus-shaped sausages, and lowered their voices to an almost inaudible level because they believed that doing so was more befitting of a lady. As for Ginko, she was always and ever nothing but herself. In that light, she did not think she was being harsh with Shinkurou; she merely spoke her mind, and to hell with being “uncute” or “frigid”. They had grown up together, and people who had grown up together could forgive each other almost anything. That was the sort of attitude she took towards that peculiar night job he had chosen, and ultimately the reason why she had started doing the things she did. In her eyes, it all evened out.
Sometimes, Shinkurou would come around without any real agenda, and that always annoyed Ginko a little – they had nothing much to say to each other those days, and it was a waste of her time and his, especially his, especially since he still kept company with that indecent girl from the Yuuno House. The annoyance, however, always faded into something a little warmer and a lot more uncomfortable as they talked, or whenever he’d laugh or smile or give her this look that always made her think that he was semi-exasperated with her but too familiar with her reasons for acting the way she did to say it, or maybe it was just her pride telling her that. It would spike again on the rare times that he fell asleep on her, but she beat it down by telling herself that, idiot as he was, Shinkurou needed all the hours he could get. Ginko made it a point not to look up from her work during those points – the sight of him in the sunlight and the sound of his breathing were always a little too distracting for her.