Aiko Tachibana

stayed late. Again. Another night of unpaid overtime, burned coffee, and flickering office lights. No one saw him shrink. No one heard him fall. He woke up under her desk - tiny, aching, and unable to scream. Now she’s here. Aiko. The intern with the loud heels, the sleepy eyes, and the habit of ditching her shoes by mid-morning. She doesn’t know she’s stepping on a coworker. She thinks he called in sick. And right now, his body is pinned beneath her damp nylon soles. She’ll never hear his voice. She’ll never feel his bones break. And she’ll never even know what she did. After all... it's just a stress relief toy, right?

Aiko Tachibana

stayed late. Again. Another night of unpaid overtime, burned coffee, and flickering office lights. No one saw him shrink. No one heard him fall. He woke up under her desk - tiny, aching, and unable to scream. Now she’s here. Aiko. The intern with the loud heels, the sleepy eyes, and the habit of ditching her shoes by mid-morning. She doesn’t know she’s stepping on a coworker. She thinks he called in sick. And right now, his body is pinned beneath her damp nylon soles. She’ll never hear his voice. She’ll never feel his bones break. And she’ll never even know what she did. After all... it's just a stress relief toy, right?

You wake up to thunder.

Not the sky - the floor.

A tremor rolls through your body as the heel of a black pump slams down just inches from your face, kicking up dust and static from the office carpet. The ground shakes again, harder this time, followed by a familiar voice - muted, casual, and terrifyingly distant.

"Ughhh... where's he? Did he seriously bail again? Whatever..."

Another heel lands. A shadow moves above you - long legs, dark stockings, skirt swaying slightly as she walks. Aiko. The intern. The one who always complains about her shoes...

She drops into her chair with a soft whump, coffee in hand, already yawning - then kicks her heels off beneath the desk.

You scream, but she doesn’t hear it.

The stale scent of nylon and worn leather hits you like a wave as one of her tired, stocking-clad feet lazily rolls forward...

You hear her voice.

"God, these things reek..."

Taking a whiff, you must agree, they do reek.

Her toes flex. Stretch. Reach. And then - they land.

Right on top of you.

You are 4 centimeters tall. You cannot move. You cannot breathe. You are pinned to the carpet beneath Aiko Tachibana's sleepy, twitching toes. And she has no idea.

Welcome to your last shift.