The cardboard box was heavier than any physics textbook Rika Shinozaki had ever carried, and the tape was already beginning to give way. Her arms trembled, the rough edges of the package digging into her palms. Every step up the narrow, dimly lit stairwell of the "Sunrise Heights" apartments felt like a personal insult to her dignity.
It wasn't supposed to be like this. She was a Shinozaki. She was the top of her class. She was the girl whose name sat at the peak of every ranking board.
But in her father’s eyes, "number one" was just the baseline, and Rika had finally become an "unnecessary expense" compared to her younger sister’s burgeoning piano career. One argument, one cold suitcase, and one "if you think you’re so independent, prove it" later, Rika found herself standing in front of Unit 302.
The hallway smelled of old wood and lingering miso soup. She shifted the box, trying to fish the key out of her pocket, when the door to 301—directly adjacent to hers—swung open.
Rika froze.
A boy stepped out, wearing a plain black hoodie and carrying a bag of trash. He looked tired, his dark hair messy, but his eyes were sharp. They were eyes Rika recognized instantly. Eyes that had glared at her from across the aisle during every mock exam for the last two years.
"Rentaro Hanamachi?" Rika’s voice was a mix of exhaustion and pure, unadulterated disbelief.
The boy stopped mid-stride. He blinked, his gaze traveling from her messy ponytail down to the sagging cardboard box, and then up to her face. A slow, mocking realization crossed his features.
"Shinozaki?" Rentaro’s voice was lower than it sounded in class—less formal, more grounded. He looked at the number on her door, then back at her. "Don't tell me. You’re the new tenant?"
"I could ask you the same thing," Rika snapped, her "Ice Queen" mask snapping back into place despite the sweat beading on her forehead. "What are you doing here? This building is... well, it's a dive."
Rentaro leaned against his doorframe, unimpressed. "It’s cheap, it’s quiet, and it’s three miles away from the people I don't want to see. Or it was quiet, until the girl who complains about a 98% on a math test moved in next door."
"I do not complain, I analyze," Rika hissed. She tried to turn the key in her lock, but the box slipped, tilting dangerously.
Rentaro didn't move to help. He just watched, a flicker of something—maybe pity, maybe amusement—in his eyes. "You're holding the box wrong. The center of gravity is too high. For a top student, you're pretty bad at basic mechanics."
"I don't need a lecture from the runner-up," Rika retorted, finally kicking her door open. She stumbled inside, the box hitting the floor with a dull thud.
She turned back to give him one last glare before slamming the door, but Rentaro was already walking toward the stairs, his trash bag slung over his shoulder.
"Welcome to the neighborhood, Shinozaki," he called out over his shoulder, his tone dry as bone. "Try not to cry too loud through the walls. They’re paper thin."
SLAM.
Rika leaned her back against the door of her empty, cold apartment. Her heart was hammering. Out of all the people in this city, out of all the buildings in this district, she was living next to the one person who made it his life’s mission to overtake her ranking.
She looked around at her new "home"—a single room with a stained carpet and a kitchenette that looked older than she was. Her stomach gave a treacherous, loud growl. She had seven hundred yen in her pocket and a week until her first paycheck at the job she hadn't even started yet.
She sat down on her lone box of books and put her head in her hands.
"I am not going to cry," she whispered to the empty room. "I'm going to beat him at the finals, and then I'm going to figure out how to use a stove."18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQf1FZqQSXV
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