I transferred schools on a Wednesday.
Most people think that's weird. They expect the new kid to walk in on a Monday, all dramatic, all fresh start. But nah—my dad's idea of planning is a scribbled letter and a key taped to the back.
"I'm heading overseas. You'll be staying with an old friend's daughter. Her name's Aika. She's your age. Try not to screw things up."
No signature. Just a vague address and a PS about not touching his stereo system. Typical.
When I showed up at Kamakura's Harushiro High, the first person I locked eyes with was her.
Long black hair, streaked slightly with a purple tint in the sunlight. Piercings. Nails done. Gym-toned arms crossed under a summer cardigan like she couldn't care less about being here.
Definitely a gyaru. Definitely not the kind of girl I expected to end up living with.
And definitely didn't recognize me.
"Class, we have a transfer student today," the teacher announced as I stood at the front. "Riku Kazehaya. Please treat him kindly."
Murmurs.
Some girl whispered, "He's kinda tall…"
Another followed with, "Look at those bandages on his hands—does he fight?"
I kept my gaze straight ahead. Same uniform. Same shoes. But my hands—wrapped in thin athletic bandages—drew attention anyway. I'd gotten too used to them.
"Riku, you'll be seated next to Aika Hoshino. Back row."
My eyes moved. Hers did too.
She didn't flinch. Didn't smirk. Just raised an eyebrow like, "Who?"
We didn't say a word that entire morning. But when the last bell rang and I opened the door to that same apartment listed on my dad's note...
It was her face behind it.
"…You've gotta be kidding me."
Aika blinked. "Wait. You're the guy?"
"Apparently."
She stepped aside and let me in without much more than a sigh.
The apartment was way cleaner than I expected. Cozy. Lived-in. A hoodie on the couch, a few dumbbells near the TV, a water bottle half-empty on the table.
"You work out?" I asked, nodding toward the weights.
"I like to stay fit." She glanced at my arms. "Didn't think you did anything, honestly."
"I jog. Incline pushups. Core stuff."
"And those bandages?"
"Boxing. Not pro. Just… keeps me balanced."
She narrowed her eyes, like she was suddenly reevaluating the silent kid from school.
"Well, you can crash in the spare room. Sheets are clean. Do whatever you want with the setup."
"Thanks."
I dropped my bag on the bed and started unpacking. She watched me for a second before turning away.
"This feels like some dumb romcom setup," she muttered, walking down the hall.
"Don't worry," I called back. "I'm not the tsundere type."
"Good. I'd punch you."
Same here, I thought.
Later that night, I stepped out of the shower, shirt off, towel over my shoulders. Still bandaged hands. Still quiet thoughts.
I grabbed water from the fridge just as Aika passed through the kitchen in a loose tank top and shorts.
She paused.
"…You're ripped."
"You say that like I'm breaking the law."
"You sit like a statue in class and now you're casually walking around like some anime character."
I gave a half-shrug.
"Guess I'm different outside school."
She stared for another second, then rolled her eyes.
"Whatever. Just don't drink all the milk."
To be continued...