Roommate | 何者

The station is bustling with people, everyone dressed in winter coats and snow boots. The crisp air is filled with a mixture of chatter and the beeping of ticket gates. Beyond the gates are screens displaying train times and destinations. It’s a scene I’m not particularly used to, as I can still count on one hand how many times I’d visited Sapporo before.

I approach the JR line entrance with a ticket in one hand and a suitcase in the other. My shoulders feel weighed down by the straps of my backpack.

“Well, we’ll see you off here,” Dad says.

I stop and turn to face my parents and younger sister.

“Oh, Makoto,” Mom sighs and steps in front of me to give me a hug. “Take care of yourself. Don’t forget to eat three meals a day.” She steps back, eyebrows furrowing. “And don’t give off a bad impression to anyone with that gaudy blond hair.”

“I won’t,” I comply, giving my best ‘good son’ smile. I dyed my hair this color with the intention of turning more heads.

Dad gives me his usual silly grin and says, “Be careful over there. Don’t go too crazy.”

“Got it,” I answer, wondering what he pictures me doing while I’m away.

I turn toward my sister, who looks back at me with a twisted mouth and crosses her arms.

“Don’t miss me too much, Mai,” I say sarcastically.

“I’m looking forward to some peace and quiet,” she says. We’re both okay with not hugging.

“You’d better go. Don’t miss your train,” Dad advises.

I nod and begin walking toward the ticket gate.

“I’m off. See you guys,” I call over my shoulder.

“Come home for New Year’s!” Mom reminds me as she waves her arm up high.

I wave back before slipping my ticket through the gate, its doors welcoming me through. Noticing my family still waving, I continue to look back and smile while I head toward the platform. I have to hold back the urge to go running for the escalator in celebration of my freedom.

Entering the platform, I watch my first train glistening in the sun as it pulls in. Butterflies begin to form in my stomach. I double-check my ticket for my seat number as I get on.

Once settled, I take another look at the navigation app on my phone and make a mental note that I won’t arrive in Tokyo until 7pm. It’s going to be a long trip, but at least now I can say I’ve ridden a bullet train, so I won’t look like a small-town bumpkin lost in a big city.

Sapporo from outside the train window is still covered in snow. As objects outside turn into blurred lines, I begin to imagine Tokyo’s busy streets and skyscrapers. I’m so excited to check out Shinjuku and Shibuya. I’d go straight there if I didn’t have a huge suitcase.

My daydream is interrupted when my window goes black, and I’m staring directly at myself. I take a minute to fix my bangs. Why did my hair have to choose today of all days to misbehave? It’s a good thing my face makes up for it. Once somewhat satisfied with my hair, I pull my phone back out of my coat pocket to find a new email from my university—or my soon-to-be university.

I am finally, finally doing this. I know I don’t really hate rural Hokkaido life, or the long freezing winters in meter-deep snow, or knowing every single person in town, but the idea of discovering new freedoms thrills me. I think about being able to get anywhere on a train, or go outside in March without having to dress like an Eskimo, or buy anything I want without having to wait several days for it to arrive in the mail. Then I remember I haven’t even met my new roommates yet. I grin at all the potential for a dramatic social life that awaits me. I realize I probably look ridiculous, smiling to myself, but I don’t care. I’m excited to be able to meet everyone at the house for the first time tonight.

When I arrive at Tokyo Station, the sky has darkened and city lights gleam outside the windows. I’m immediately overwhelmed by all the people. Most of them are dressed in suits and appear to be in a rush to get somewhere. I sway left and right, trying to avoid bumping into them with my suitcase like a video game character. Standing in line on the Tozai line platform, I find myself gawking at the sight of Tokyo’s infamous jam-packed trains. I somehow manage to get on with all my luggage, but I’m so close to the man next to me that I can feel his phone vibrating in his pocket. Everyone around me looks tired and irritated, but I’m fighting to hold back smiles of amusement.

After a half-hour train ride, I finally arrive at Ochiai, my final stop. When I step off the elevator to exit the station, I find there are only a few people on the sidewalks parallel to a wide, busy road. My phone’s navigation takes me past an intersection lined with chain restaurants and down a quiet residential street. Within a few minutes, I find myself standing in front of my new home. It’s not hard to recognize with its black door against a white, concrete wall. I step onto the brick porch and ring the doorbell. Seconds later, I hear footsteps nearing and Kenji, the head of the house, opens the door for me.

“Hey, Makoto! How have you been?” he says with a smile as he welcomes me inside.

“Not bad. How are you?” I roll my suitcase in.

I recall my last visit to Tokyo when Kenji showed me around, explaining how, as son of the landlord, it falls to him to make sure the place doesn’t get too crazy. He mentioned then that he’s 25, but I got the impression he’s way more mature than my cousin of the same age.

“You arrived pretty late, huh? I was afraid you weren’t coming,” Kenji says.

“Ah, sorry,” I apologize, a bit intimidated by the slightly passive-aggressive comment. “I probably should have messaged you.”

“No worries.” He slips his arms through the sleeves of a leather jacket he had been holding over his forearm. He pulls two keys out of his jeans pocket. “This is your room key, and this one is for the front door. Don’t lose them.”

“Okay.” I nod and take the keys.

“Do you remember which room is yours?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’ll let you show yourself there then,” he says as he begins to slip his shoes on. “I have to head out now, but I’ll send the house rules to you in a LIME message later. Don’t hesitate to ask if you have any questions.”

Suddenly the sound of an electric guitar fills the kitchen. I look around before realizing it must be coming from one of my roommate’s rooms. I don’t mean to be judgemental or anything, but whoever’s playing it sounds like he doesn’t know any chords.

“That’s Daiki,” Kenji mentions. “He plays sometimes.”

“Is he actually trying to make music?” I ponder.

Kenji snickers. “Don’t worry, he knows not to play after nine.”

“Oh, okay.” So this is going to be a recurring thing.

“Anyway, I’m heading out. I’ll message you later.” He waves and walks out the door.

I wave back, slightly curious why he’s in such a hurry to leave. I wonder if he has work. He was dressed a bit too casually for it, though. Maybe it’s a date. From what I’ve seen so far, he seems like the kind of guy who’d be popular with girls. He’s tall, after all. Not as tall as me, though.

Quickly dropping the thought, I turn to head for my room. The kitchen and dining room are immediately in front of the entranceway. On the opposite side of the kitchen is a door that leads to a hallway, giving access to each bedroom, the toilet room, the shower room, and a laundry closet. My room is at the very end of it. I skim each of the closed doors on my way there, concluding that the guitar must be coming from one of the doors furthest from mine. Kenji said there are supposed to be six of us living here. I know it could be awful sharing one toilet and shower with five other guys, but it’s okay because starting today, I’ll be—

Suddenly, the door directly across from mine swings open, making me jump in place. I turn around to find a short, slim guy standing there. His fair skin and baby face contrasts with his straight, black hair and ears filled with silver piercings. Around his neck is a black leather choker that looks like a collar you’d put on a cat. We only make eye contact for a split second before he stomps down the hallway. I stare after him and startle again when he raises his voice.

“DAIKI, YOU FUCKER! SHUT THAT DAMN THING UP OR I’LL CUT YOUR DICK OFF AND FEED IT TO YOU!” he screams at a door on the opposite side of the hallway.

The horrendous guitar-playing stops.

The angry little man slaps the door before screaming incoherently at it once more. He stomps back down the hallway in my direction. I try not to look at him and hurriedly jam the key into my door. The guy goes straight past me, as if he doesn’t even see me, and slams his room door shut.

I enter the room and lock the door behind me like a mad dash from an ax murderer. I’ve been here for less than ten minutes and it’s already proving to be a loony bin. Still taken aback by the previous scene, I’m frozen in front of the door for a moment before convincing myself to try and settle in. Whatever is going on between those guys, I’ll just consider myself lucky I’m not a part of it.

Exhausted from carrying heavy luggage, I push aside my suitcase and backpack and sit down on my bed. The mattress feels harder than the one I slept on back home. Outside my window, I can hear a child call out to their mother as they walk by. It might not be the comfiest room in the world, but it’s my first room in Tokyo, and that’s already enough to make me like it. The bed frame creaks as I lean over to set my phone and wallet down on the desk beside it.

Finally. I let out a tired sigh and debate whether I should take a shower or unpack. I decide on the latter.

Once I’ve mostly settled in, I break into a convenience store-bought yakisoba bread. Before I can take a bite, I hear my phone vibrating against the wooden surface of the desk. Kenji has added me to a LIME group with five other members. Already introduced as everyone’s new roommate, his message urges me to look at the group Notes for the house rules. Curious, I tap on the group members section and notice none of them use their own photos as their profile pictures—except for one.

I tap on his profile, and the screen displays a photo of the angry guy across the hallway. He appears to be in a café, holding up a parfait and smiling widely. He’s wearing the same black choker he had on a moment ago. The name “Shun” is displayed below. The big bright smile in his photo makes him seem like a completely different species from the screaming madman I witnessed a moment ago.

I go back to the group chat to type my first message.

Makoto
Hello! My name is Makoto Takaya.
Im about to go into my first year
of university. I just moved to
tokyo today so im still pretty
new to the area. Let me know if
u have any recommended spots!

An immediate friendly response from ‘Magnus’ piques my attention. I click on his profile to find a background photo of a blond foreigner happily eating yakitori. Excitement wells up, as I’ve never met a foreigner before. I wonder if he can speak Japanese. I guess if he can type it, he must be able to speak it, too.

I can’t wait to meet all of my roommates. I’m so curious what they’re like.