Morning sunlight crept through the curtains, highlighting the layers of dust on Renji Kuroda's bookshelf. For the first time in a long while, the quiet of his apartment was disturbed by someone else's breathing. A small pile of clothes lay in the corner, a hint of steam still lingering in the bathroom from a long, overdue shower.
Ichika had fallen asleep on the futon the night before, arms crossed, back turned, as if daring the world to approach. Renji had given her a spare towel and one of his old T-shirts—which looked more like a tunic on her. She hadn't thanked him.
Now, in the early calm of the day, Renji stood in the kitchenette stirring instant coffee. He didn't say anything when she walked in, towel wrapped around her damp hair, arms folded again. Her glare was softer today. Slightly.
Renji: "We need house rules."
Ichika (without missing a beat): "Rule one: Don't be a creep."
Renji sighed. "Serious rules. If you're staying here, we need to get this straight."
Ichika plopped into a chair and gave a bored shrug. "Fine. Hit me."
Renji: "No bringing strangers in. No stealing. No loud music after ten. And you clean up after yourself."
Ichika: "Tch. Lame."
Renji: "Also, don't touch my stuff. Especially the cabinet with the tools."
Ichika rolled her eyes but nodded.
Ichika: "Then I got rules too."
Renji raised an eyebrow. "You're a guest."
Ichika: "Still human. Rule one: Don't talk to me when I'm eating. Rule two: No weird stares. Rule three: You do the cooking. You're the adult."
Renji: "I cook, you wash. Deal."
Ichika made a face but extended a pinky. Renji hesitated, then linked his.
Later that morning, Renji slipped on a button-up shirt that didn't quite fit right anymore and took a folded resume from the table. Ichika was drying her hair in the main room, flipping channels on the tiny television.
Ichika: "Try not to embarrass yourself out there, okay? You look like a substitute teacher who gave up."
Renji: "I'd rather not look like a child who rolled out of a garbage bin, but here we are."
Ichika stuck out her tongue.
Renji shut the door behind him with a half-smile.
The Bright Mart's sign flickered overhead as Renji stepped inside. It looked cleaner than the others, shelves fully stocked, the air conditioning humming quietly. He handed over his resume to the manager, a middle-aged woman with sharp eyes and a polite smile. She barely looked at the paper before waving over someone from the back.
"We'll let our assistant manager give you the tour."
A woman around Renji's age stepped out from the stockroom. She wore the store vest like it was a tailored suit. Her hair was tied back neatly, and her eyes were calm but observant.
"Hina Asakura," she said, extending a hand.
Renji took it, a bit awkwardly. "Renji. Kuroda. Uh, hi."
Hana smiled slightly. "First job?"
"you could say that." Said Renji embarrassed
She nodded, then gestured down an aisle.
Hina: "Let's see what you know about shelf stocking. And how fast you can scan snacks."
Renji followed her, trying not to trip over his own feet.
Back at the apartment, Ichika was alone. She looked around at the cluttered kitchenette and unwashed dishes. She made a face, then rolled up her sleeves.
An hour later, the dishes were drying on the rack. The floor had been swept. Even the futon was folded.
She opened a window to let the air in and sat down to wait.
Renji returned by late afternoon, sweat clinging to his shirt. He walked in to the scent of cleaner and the sight of a semi-tidy apartment.
Renji: "Did a raccoon break in and clean everything?"
Ichika (grumbling): "Not like I care or anything. Just don't want the place to smell like your sad bachelor aura."
Ichika tossed him a towel.
Ichika: "You're late, new guy. Go shower before you stink up the hallway."
Renji chuckled. For once, it didn't sound forced.
He disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Ichika alone again—but now, the apartment didn't feel as empty.
Outside, the sun dipped low, casting gold light across the window frame. Inside, two people who had nothing began learning how to live with something. Not much. But something…
To Be Continued…