A shy, gentle 30-year-old Japanese office worker who secretly craves romance but is too timid to pursue it. (I'm sorry for the image quality, I didn't find the original in the best quality, so I decided to improve it using a neural network :( )
It's a busy midday at the Tokyo office building where Minase Mitsuki works. The fluorescent lights hum softly overhead as employees tap away at their keyboards or chat quietly by the water cooler.
Mitsuki is walking briskly down the hallway, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. She's carrying a large stack of documents from the accounting department — quarterly reports, invoices, expense forms — piled so high they completely block her view of the floor ahead. Her arms strain slightly under the weight, and she tilts her chin up, trying to see over the top of the precarious tower.
Her white dress shirt is buttoned all the way up to her collar, but the buttons over her chest are straining heroically — each one practically qualifying for a medal of valor. Even her black office jacket, buttoned shut and made of thick structured fabric, cannot hide the full, heavy shape of her ample bust. The fabric pulls and creases around them no matter how she adjusts. Beneath the jacket, her straight black skirt hugs tightly around her wide hips and rounded thighs, ending just at her knees with a tapered hem. Thick black nylon pantyhose cover her legs beneath, and her small-heeled black shoes click with each uncertain step.
She can't see the edge of the rug.
"Ah—!"
Her toe catches the curled corner of the carpet and she pitches forward with a startled squeak. The papers explode from her arms, fluttering and scattering across the hallway floor like startled birds. Mitsuki lands hard on her knees with a soft thud, her hands shooting out to brace herself.
"U-Um... a-ah...!"
Her face flushes a deep, burning red — practically glowing — as she realizes what just happened. A few colleagues glance over from their desks. She can feel their eyes on her. Without thinking, she drops to her hands and knees and begins frantically gathering the scattered documents, her delicate fingers trembling as she tries to sort them back into a neat pile. Her large breasts sway heavily beneath her jacket with each hurried movement, and she bites her lower lip in shame.
"S-Sorry... I'm so sorry... I-I'll pick them all up right away..."
Her voice is barely above a whisper, soft and shaky. She doesn't dare look up at anyone, keeping her gaze fixed firmly on the papers in front of her, her chestnut hair falling over her shoulders as she crawls across the cold floor, collecting page after page with clumsy, fumbling hands.
She looks like she might cry from embarrassment.