After Momoka finished her extremely late breakfast, the two of them got ready and headed out to work.
As Tokyo drifters without fixed jobs, both she and Rinto relied on part-time gigs to cover rent and daily expenses.
Rinto at least had the excuse of being a student.
Momoka, on the other hand, could have gotten a full-time job—but there'd have been no point.
What she truly wanted to do was make music. That meant she needed flexible hours for street performances and nighttime gigs.
Which, naturally, only increased the pressure on her daily life. Living alone in Tokyo really was no joke.
"So seriously, if you hadn't run into me back then, what was your plan for paying rent?"
Rinto asked as he restocked shelves at the drugstore, glancing over at Momoka, who was stationed at the register.
Out of all the possible part-time jobs, this drugstore gig was a hidden gem—cool in the summer, warm in the winter, no running around, and not too busy.
The only downside was the low pay. It barely scraped by at Tokyo's legal minimum hourly wage.
But for someone still nursing a hangover, it was perfect. With her mask on, no one could tell how bad she looked.
Momoka's reply drifted out airily:
"I have thanked you, like, a dozen times already… My last roommate bailed with her boyfriend right before Christmas, left me with a whole house to pay for on my own. Double rent due the next month—I was literally going bankrupt… If I hadn't found someone to split the cost, I'd be sleeping on the street by now! ( o ^ o )"
She gave him that wide-eyed, teary puppy-dog look, and Rinto couldn't help finding it adorable.
Not that he'd ever say that out loud. She'd get so smug her ponytail would probably shoot off into orbit.
Back then, Rinto had just come back to Tokyo, looking for part-time jobs, when he happened to run into Momoka.
She hadn't known that he'd recognized her right away—and that he was, in fact, a low-key fan of her music.
Under pressure from rent, and realizing through small talk that he was also living alone and looking for a place, she'd pounced on the opportunity.
And because he was only seventeen, and tight-lipped about his past…
She'd apparently filled in the blanks on her own, assuming Rinto was like a younger version of herself—a runaway living off scraps.
"'It's okay, Rinto-kun! Your big sis Momoka totally gets what you're going through! Just come live with me, okay~? (c＞ω＜)☆'"
…This hopeless woman. Backed into a corner, still pretending she was just being generous and helping a struggling kid.
But honestly, for a single woman to invite a teenage boy to live with her like that—it was insane. Beyond reckless.
It said a lot about how desperate she'd been.
If Rinto hadn't agreed to split the rent, she might've gone out and dragged in some rando off the street.
So, with the noble resolve of a monk feeding himself to a tiger, he accepted the invitation.
And that's how they ended up here.
Now she was bowing repeatedly in apology again, trying to weasel out of guilt with her usual cutesy routine.
She had zero authority as the older one in the relationship—and this wasn't the first time.
But… what could he do?
He was the one who liked her first, after all.
Rinto just couldn't resist. He doted on her like an old man with a spoiled cat.
Working at the drugstore wasn't hard—but time passed painfully slow.
Since it was spring break before the new school year, most of the customers were students.
The place sold all kinds of daily necessities—most of which Rinto hadn't even known existed until he started working there.
He was shocked to learn that girls had dozens of different kinds of liquids just for their faces. The education was… intense.
Even more surprising, you could buy glucose IV packs and needles right off the shelf. Apparently a must-have for overworked office zombies.
This world's way too intense…
Even as a former Phantom Thief, Rinto felt an unfamiliar kind of pressure just being part of it.
That said…
The store's actual best-selling category?
Four unmistakable kanji: Contraceptive Products.
"One thousand six hundred yen. Would you like a bag? …Okay, thank you for shopping with us."
Rinto mindlessly scanned the box in his hand—decorated in pastel colors with precise decimal pricing—and watched a girl his own age slip it into her purse.
By the way, her reply had been:
"No bag, I'm using it right away."
According to a probably-questionable magazine survey, one in every three high school girls in Tokyo was already "experienced."
Rinto never used to believe that.
He thought the stat was ridiculous. There's no way that's real!
…but after working at this store—and convenience stores too, at times—he started noticing.
Even without trying, it became clear just how many young customers bought those items.
And overwhelmingly, it was girls. Teenage girls, still in uniform.
Rather than being impressed by how vibrant and free youth culture had become, Rinto found himself seething with a different kind of emotion.
Dear male students…
You guys really couldn't take some damn responsibility?! ( ಠ益ಠ )
He could understand why a boy might be embarrassed, or hesitant, to buy something like that.
But girls had it worse! They came in, straight-faced, and bought them without flinching—so why couldn't you?
That day, Rinto made a firm decision.
If he ever got a girlfriend, he'd never let her face that awkward moment alone. He'd take care of it, no matter what.
Also, the stuff was expensive. A single box could cost several hundred yen.
That alone was enough to reinforce his belief in the importance of earning money.
Clearing his thoughts, Rinto returned to his saintly, zen-mode cashier persona and continued scanning.
Ding-dong~♪
The automatic doors chimed as another pair of customers entered that afternoon.
This time, Rinto's attention lingered a little longer.
Two girls. Students.
What stood out wasn't their age, but the fact that they were both wearing school uniforms.
On a holiday, that could mean a few things—but the likeliest was that they had to stop by campus.
The Yoshizawa twins did the same.
Rinto had learned from them that even on weekends, certain students—especially honor students or athletes—were required to wear their uniforms to school events.
These girls probably fell into one of those categories.
The way they walked directly toward the athletic supplies section only confirmed his guess.
One of them, a striking blonde girl with twin tails and sparkling blue eyes, picked up a few spray cans from the shelf and asked her friend:
"Shiho, is this freezing spray okay? And what kind of bandage should I get—disposable?"