Viw: Whispers and the Beautiful Challenge

Season 1 – The First Whisper

Episode 7: A New Hope

Leaving the atelier of Shisui, Naomi boarded the Shinkansen back to Tokyo.
On her lap—a thick envelope from Kodama Takano.
Inside, a dossier on the supplement ingredient. Dense. Heavy with data.

She turned the first page—
and caught her breath.

A photograph of a four-thousand-year-old olive tree.
A trunk twisted like stone, fissures carved deep like runes.
Roots melted into the earth itself.
Leaves of silver flame, flickering in light.

A photograph—yet more than an image.
A presence.

(This… is the source?)

With each page, her senses sharpened.
“Unique polyphenols.” “Oxidation control.” “Cellular repair.”
Terms, figures, graphs.
Comparisons of extraction methods. Relative values against known actives.

Her professional instinct slid keys into hidden locks.
Feeling and reason. Myth and science.
Quietly meeting within the grain of that ancient wood.

A slow light spread through her chest.

(We can turn this around.)

The afterglow of Takano’s treatment still lingered in her body.
That inner stillness let the information settle cleanly.
Somewhere beneath her skin, strength stirred.

She took out a small jar.
A cream with no name—yet.
She warmed a trace on her fingertip, smoothed it over the back of her hand.

A breath of sandalwood rose—her breathing fell into rhythm.

Not a product.
A support.
A way of gathering herself back.

The train cut east.
Winter light slanted in, tracing pale silver on the pages.

＊ ＊ ＊

Tokyo.
The air in the lab felt different than a few days ago.
Until recently, everyone had been fumbling in the dark.
Now, the light Naomi brought back from Kyoto was quietly catching.

“I’ll cross-check safety against existing food data.”
Yusuke burst in with arms full of files.

“What about solubility conditions? Capsule or powder changes how we position it.”

“Could we present it as a liquid?”

A researcher set down a pipette and raced a black formula across the whiteboard.

“For the exhibition, let’s lead with ‘book a trial’ rather than mass production timelines.
Anchor the story in the technology.”

PR handed out notes; short agreements ricocheted around the room.

—Seven days left.
Every red circle on the calendar tightened the chest.
Still, no one stopped.

〈Day 7〉
Confirm active profile of the powder. Preliminary safety likely coverable with existing literature.
Yusuke added tabs to the reference list, closing gaps in the comparison table.

〈Day 6〉 — Promotion meeting.
“Pathway is Story → Evidence → Trial Booking.
Booking via QR.
Copy short, leave space to breathe.”

In the design room, the overnight team slid layouts forward, eyes heavy but lit.
“Open the whitespace here.
It will travel farther if we don’t over-explain.”

Few words. Exacting notes.
A wave of nods.

〈Day 5〉 — On-site simulation with sales.
“At the entrance, let visitors feel quiet.
Place the booth half a step away from the corridor’s noise.”

“Booking in one minute.
UI that doesn’t make them think.”

Maps filled with markers, sticky notes criss-crossed.
Small laughs surfaced, then moved on.

〈Day 4〉 — Lab.
“If the powder looks too granular, it feels commonplace.
Keep it to the essence.”

“Use the giant olive photograph as the core visual.
No over-processing.
Let the presence carry it.”

Debate ran late; the red on the board was overwritten again and again.

〈Day 3〉 — Final pass on the deck.
Let numbers and narrative breathe together; align the temperature of the words.

“Don’t declare.
Place the line so it can be received.”

Naomi’s single sentence made PR smile—quietly.

—And then, certainty began to form.

No one had won yet; nothing was over.
But shaping the “one light we have now” had become their shared hope.
Behind tired eyes, something burned clean.

(With these people, we can fight.)

＊

Back in Tokyo, Naomi stood before the mirror—surprised at how firmly her skin held now, how her face seemed lifted day by day.
The sensation of Takano’s hands remained bright in memory.

Each time she used the cream, complicated feelings rose:
a quiet longing for him; the knowledge that her life could not simply make room for it; the effort of pushing that feeling back under the surface.

He had given her about fifty grams.
Enough, at a normal pace, for six or eight weeks.
Still, each time she scooped, a small wave stirred in her chest.

She found herself wishing, almost unconsciously:
If only it could be made into a product soon…

The memory of his hand still lingered on her skin.
Each touch of the cream carried both its comfort and the yearning to see him again.
That quiet longing grew inside her—
yet Naomi pressed it down, forcing herself to ignore it.

This wasn’t “just skincare.”
It was a ritual—
gathering the breath scattered on the battlefield of work, returning it to stillness.

The one support that was, certainly, being used up—
and that fact, she realized, frightened her.

(What happens to me when it’s gone?)

Even so, the eyes in the mirror looked clearer than by day.
I can run today. I can run tomorrow.
That was the self looking back at her.

＊

Three days left.
Across the floor, Yusuke met her gaze and gave a small, tight fist.
Design reprinted roughs. PR finished the final QR test.
The lab lights stayed on.

Everyone held a small light, each in their place.

Naomi stopped and drew a breath.
The light she’d received in Kyoto no longer belonged to one person.
It was spreading—steady, aligned, in many hands.

She didn’t know what waited beyond this mountain.
But for now—
they would give this light a form.

That alone was their shared wish.