It takes me a minute to remember where I am when I wake up to the sound of buzzing from my desk. I find a pile of messages from Shinjiro.

Shinjiro
Wake up!! Its ur first full day in tokyo!
Hows it so far? Is it busy?
Did u see the skytree?
Did u meet anyone famous?
Was Hachiko waiting for u at the station?

Makoto
Calm down lol
All ive done so far is unpack
Ill let u know as soon as i
meet someone famous

I find myself grinning as I remember Shinjiro’s laughter at my farewell party. He demanded that I can’t return to Hokkaido without a picture together with someone famous, or at least Godzilla. The thought of Shinjiro gathering together all our friends from grade school just to surprise me makes me almost start typing a message asking when he can hang out next. Then I remember that I can’t see him every day anymore.

Before I can check my other messages, my phone begins vibrating again. Haruka, I read and immediately reject the call to return to LIME. I scroll straight past the red 37 next to Haruka’s name. The profile picture below is a birthday flower bouquet I bought for my mom two years ago. I tap on it and quickly type a message to assure her I’m still among the living before switching over to the roommate group chat.

Two more replies from a Daiki and a Junichi. The only roommate who hasn’t responded yet is the one named Shun.

Getting out of bed, I slip on a pair of black skinny jeans and pull a sweater over my head. I grab my hooded khaki coat and head to the convenience store for food.

When returning to the house, I find two men in the kitchen chatting and carrying plates to the table. They pause to look at me as I walk through the door.

“Oh, hello,” one of them greets me. He has a long face and an arched nose. His hair is tied into a ponytail.

“Hi,” I answer, trying to hide my excitement. I don’t want them to think I’m weird for being overly enthusiastic about meeting them.

The other guy acknowledges me with a nod. He has a beard and wears a dark red beanie.

“You’re Makoto, right?” the one with the ponytail says.

“Yes.” They appear much older than me, so I try to be polite. “And you are?”

“I’m Junichi.” His lips thin into a crooked smile.

“Daiki,” the guy with the hat says in a deep voice as he sits down next to Junichi at the table.

“I’m Makoto,” I respond, approaching their table with a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

Junichi’s eyes fall toward the bag in my hand. He motions at the chair in front of him. I bow my head and take a seat.

“You mentioned that you’re just starting university, right?” Junichi asks.

“Yes.” I nod.

“Which school?” Daiki asks.

“WU,” I reply.

“WU!” Junichi repeats, looking impressed. “You must be pretty smart then.”

“No, actually I’m not sure how I got in,” I say humbly as I try to suppress a proud smile. “What about you two? What do you do?”

“I work at a skateboard shop,” Daiki says.

“Oh, you skateboard?” I say excitedly. He gives me a cool nod in return.

“I work at a roastery in Kagurazaka,” Junichi says.

“Wow, that’s so cool.” I picture him pouring drip coffee behind the bar of a trendy Tokyo café.

The room goes quiet with Junichi and Daiki now focusing on their fried eggs and sausages. I follow their lead and tear open a rice ball. My first meal with Tokyoites makes me feel like a high schooler joining the ‘cool kid table.’

“Have you gotten used to the place yet?” Junichi asks as he looks up at me again.

“Yeah,” I answer after swallowing my first bite.

“You arrived last night, right? When Shun exploded,” Daiki chuckles.

“What?” Junichi looks at him curiously. “What happened last night?”

“Shun lost his shit ‘cause of my guitar. He was screaming and beating on my door,” Daiki says with an amused look on his face.

“Oh, so you were the one making that noise!” I comment.

They both pause to stare at me. Oops. Did I say that out loud?

“Sorry. You must have been surprised,” Daiki apologizes with a forced smile.

“Ah, no, it’s fine,” I say, hoping my cheeks don’t look as hot as they feel. “Is that normal for him? Shun, I mean.”

“Yeah, he’s a fucking psychopath,” Daiki grumbles before taking another bite of his food.

“You should be careful of him, by the way,” Junichi warns.

I stop eating, my curiosity burning.

“I should? Why?”

“Well, for one, he’s an asshole. Get on his bad side and he’ll torment you to your grave,” Junichi explains.

“And he’s gay,” Daiki adds.

“G-gay?” A chill goes down my spine.

“Yeah. Get on his good side and he might try to molest you.” Daiki makes a grabbing motion with his hand.

I sit frozen while the two continue to eat. So the guy I saw last night was gay? I’ve only ever known one gay person, that guy in my second-year high school class, but it was only rumored because of his flamboyant body language and feminine way of speaking. Most people picked on him, but Shinjiro was friendly to him, so I talked to him too sometimes. He was an alright guy.

“SHUT THAT DAMN THING UP OR I’LL CUT YOUR DICK OFF AND FEED IT TO YOU!!” The screaming reverberates inside my head. Something tells me Shun might be a bit different from the guy I knew in high school.

“Don’t worry too much,” Junichi assures me. “He won’t bother you if you just leave him alone.”

He won’t bother me if I leave him alone? They make Shun sound like some kind of wild animal. Should I be scared? What else could he have possibly done to earn his “psychopath asshole” title? Why didn’t Kenji warn me about him?

Just as I’m about to ask Junichi and Daiki for more details, they get absorbed in a conversation about some TV show or something I’ve never heard of. Soon after, they finish up and leave. I stay seated, wondering what to do with my day.

I pull out my phone and begin scrolling through #tokyolife posts on Intogram, bookmarking a few spots I could check out. When I feel enlightened, I get up, ready to leave the kitchen when the very person I had just been told to avoid suddenly appears in the doorway, startling me. Our eyes meet.

Seeing him up close, I realize how young he looks. He must be the same age as me. Or maybe even younger? He couldn’t be a high school student, though. Or could he? I guess high schools in Tokyo might allow piercings. He’s wearing the same leather choker again, too.

I’m about to say hello when he walks straight past me without a single word. He goes to the front door, takes a pair of expensive-looking V-3 sneakers out of the shoe shelf, puts them on, and slips out the door. I stand staring at the entrance for a moment, unsure if I should be offended or relieved that he ignored me.

I spend the majority of my first full day in Tokyo wandering around Shinjuku and getting exhilarated by the diversity of people, skyscrapers, and flashy colors. Posting it all to Intogram, I get a crazy amount of attention from people back home expressing their jealousy.

Tired and hungry from all the walking, I get dinner at the first family restaurant I come across after exiting Ochiai Station. When I get my bill, I notice a hiring poster on an acrylic stand sitting on the paying counter. That’s when I remember my mom nagging me about getting a job. The thought of trying to find one was annoying at first, but I never would have guessed somewhere so close to home would be hiring. I snap a photo of the email address and head home to brush up my resume.

I wake up to the pitter-patter of rain on my window. I roll over and fumble for my phone on the desk. The glow reads 12:13pm and one missed call from Haruka. It feels as though the clouds outside my window are sitting on top of my chest, refusing to let me out of bed. I tap on a newly downloaded app icon and begin scrolling through different food menus. Noodles or rice? A burger sounds good too, actually.

I finally manage to leave my happy place when a ping informs me that food is near. On my way to the front door, I find Shun sitting at the kitchen table with his back to the hallway. I peek at him while cautiously passing by. He’s eating bread and looks captivated by his phone. Even when he’s just sitting around the house in fuzzy pajamas, he still wears his choker.

After receiving my order, I lock the door and set my takeout on the kitchen table in front of the seat diagonally across from Shun. I catch him looking up at me for a brief second before going back to his phone. Could it be that he’s extremely shy? I had pictured him as someone louder after our first encounter.

I carefully pull a cup of Indian curry out of the bag followed by the rest of its contents. Once everything is out in front of me, I reach into the bottom of the bag one more time, feeling only paper. Where is the spoon?

Opening kitchen counter drawers one at a time, I find the cutlery, but the first spoon I pull out has a fleck of something yellow stuck to it. The one underneath it doesn’t look any better, so I bring it with me to the sink. While I’m squeezing dish soap onto a sponge, I feel something hit my elbow followed by a loud splattering sound. I grudgingly turn around to see a carton of orange juice on the floor. Liquid seeps out of the carton’s mouth, creating an expanding orange puddle.

“Shit!” I exclaim, snatching it off the floor.

It’s light and hollow. I’m too late.

“What the hell are you doing?”

With a sinking feeling, I turn around to find Shun now staring at the juice with a look of dismay.

“Was it yours?” I ask.

“Yes, it was. And now it’s all over the floor,” he says, now glaring at me.

“I’m so sorry!” I bow deeply. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

He sighs and shakes his head. His scowl tells me he’s more than a little bit upset. Does this count as getting on his bad side?

Feeling a cold sensation on my foot, I look down and find one of my socks is covered in juice.

“Well, aren’t you going to clean it up?” His voice is demanding.

Angry, impatient eyes drill into me. I guess he’s not the shy type after all.

As he goes back to his phone, I throw the juice carton away and begin opening cupboards above the kitchen counter in search of something to clean with.

“What are you doing?” Shun says disapprovingly.

“Looking for a rag or something I can use,” I answer, trying to keep my cool. I feel bad for knocking his juice over, but what is with his attitude? It’s not like I did it on purpose.

He lets out a frustrated sigh and pushes his chair back. He kneels in front of a door under the sink and reaches in, pulling out a bucket of cleaning supplies. He doesn’t even check its contents before stating, “All the rags are dirty,” and pulling out a rag covered in dark purple stains. I can smell the filth from where I’m standing.

I grimace. “Is there anything else I can use?”

“Nope. You’ll just have to use this one.”

I don’t have a chance to say anything else before he hurls the purple-stained monster at me. I reflexively step back. It hits my shirt before falling to the ground. Now my other sock is soaking up juice too.

“What the fuck!” I cry out.

Shun shows no remorse as he runs his hands under the kitchen faucet before returning to his spot at the table.

“Hello?” I call in irritation. “Why would you throw that at me?”

He doesn’t budge an inch.

What is wrong with this guy? I understand him getting upset over the juice but isn’t throwing a rotting rag at someone going a bit too far? Now I get why Junichi and Daiki warned me about him.

“Look in the top right cupboard,” he eventually says, sighing while I drill him with my eyes.

I open it and am greeted by two fresh rolls of paper towels. Fuck. Why didn’t he mention them earlier? I grab one and use it to soak up the juice, cleaning the whole mess while Shun silently eats his food. Using the same paper towels, I cover my hand before picking up the rag and tossing everything in the garbage at once. I return to the table and begin packing my food.

“Good work,” Shun says, his eyes still fixated on his phone.

When all I do is glare back at him, he finally looks up at me.

“You’re the guy that moved into the room across from mine, right?” He suddenly changes his tone.

“Sorry. I’m done with you,” I say sharply, picking up my food and leaving the kitchen for my room.