The rain hadn't let up. It poured in sheets as Aragaki Jun and Takada Mitsuru walked down the empty streets until they finally hailed an empty taxi.
Aragaki sat in the front, giving quiet directions. Mitsuru sat in the back seat, hugging her suitcase. Her face turned toward the window, watching the streets she had once known blur behind droplets of rain. She didn't know where she was going. The uncertainty of this new life made her chest tighten.
The drive was silent until they reached their destination.
"We're here," Aragaki said, stepping out first. He opened his umbrella, grabbed her suitcase, and led the way.
Mitsuru followed closely, eyes darting around the worn apartment building. It was small and old—probably not expensive. She wondered quietly about Aragaki's finances.
They climbed to the second floor. The apartment was small, maybe 20 square meters. One room. A bit messy, but clean—no musty smell.
"You can wear the pink slippers. They're new," Aragaki said, slipping off his own shoes.
"Um. Okay," she replied softly.
Mitsuru padded inside like a cautious cat, sniffing the air and curiously glancing around, as if trying to decide if this place could really become her home.
Aragaki didn't say much. He walked straight into the bathroom, turned on the hot water, and peeled off his wet shirt, tossing it into the washing machine. After the bath was ready, he stepped out.
"You should take a shower first," he said. "You're soaked. Warm up."
"Okay," Mitsuru nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. She rummaged through her bag with fake purpose, then peeked—just for a second—at Aragaki's bare torso. His lean muscle startled her, and she quickly looked away.
He didn't seem to notice. He turned to grab fresh clothes from the closet. As he did, Mitsuru bolted into the bathroom.
The water came down in a warm stream, and as it soaked her from head to toe, she felt the last traces of cold start to fade.
She was free—from that man, from that house. But the fear hadn't gone away. A new kind of fear took its place.
Aragaki Jun… he's a boy, after all.
The same age as her. Like those other guys at school, probably thinking about those things all the time.
She'd never dated. Never kissed. Never done anything. But if it had to be someone… she didn't hate the idea of it being Aragaki Jun.
Still… she clenched her fists.
If it happens, it'll probably hurt. And if I make a weird face, he might find me disgusting.
She didn't want to be hated. She couldn't be hated. This place was her last chance.
Until she could stand on her own, she had to depend on him. Even if it meant offering everything.
In the steaming water, she whispered to herself.
"It's fine. I've face worsed. Just act like it's nothing."
Her body sank deeper into the water, half her face disappearing under the surface. Steam curled in the small bathroom. She stayed there, floating, letting herself feel strong in the warmth.
Suddenly—
Knock knock.
Her heart jumped.
"Mitsuru? You okay? You've been quiet a while," Aragaki called from outside.
"I-I'm fine!" she yelped. She slapped water with both hands to make noise. "I'm really okay!"
He lingered for a second, then walked away.
Mitsuru let out a breath, but when she reached for a towel, her hand froze.
She had forgotten to bring one.
"No, no, no…"
No towel. No underwear. No pajamas. Nothing.
She stood there in the bathroom, water dripping down her pale skin, cursing herself.
Outside, Aragaki—who had just changed—heard the commotion and returned.
"Mitsuru? What's going on?"
"I'm fine," she called out in a tiny voice. "Just… forgot something…"
Aragaki paused, then calmly asked, "Where did you put your wet clothes?"
She blinked, then suddenly realized what he meant. Her voice cracked. "T-Thank you."
A few minutes later, Mitsuru emerged, face red, eyes cast downward, hair still damp. She didn't say a word.
Aragaki didn't push her. He walked in next, taking his turn in the tub.
"First time soaking in someone else's bathwater…" he muttered with a chuckle.
But he didn't mind. She was pretty, and she looked clean. Still, the idea didn't bring him any joy.
"It's normal. Get used to it," he told himself.
By the time he came out, the water had cooled and his body was relaxed. He found Mitsuru in the bedroom area, sitting on the tatami, folding clothes.
"Mitsuru, I'll clear half the closet. You can keep your stuff in there."
She turned to him and smiled faintly. "Thanks. Let me help."
They worked side by side. He noticed how few clothes she had—worn, faded, and thin. He said nothing but made a mental note.
"Mitsuru, do you have a phone?"
She shook her head. "I don't need one."
Her tone was light, like it didn't matter, but Aragaki saw through it. She didn't want to trouble him.
The rain kept falling outside. They had finished the chores, and now there was nothing left to do. They sat in silence, facing each other.
Usually, Aragaki would be browsing on his phone, but now… someone else was here. It felt different.
He tried to make small talk, and Mitsuru responded awkwardly. She yawned mid-sentence, blinking sleepily.
"There's no bed here," Aragaki said, rubbing the back of his head. "Just the tatami and futon."
Mitsuru's eyes drifted toward the futon. Then to Aragaki. And back again.
After a pause, she said softly, "It's okay. The quilt is big enough for two."
"Eh?!"