Zani's house looked… like her.
The front porch was covered in wind chimes, mismatched plants, and a weird frog statue that looked like it was judging me. The doormat said "Wipe your feet, nerd." The house itself was this pale yellow thing with sky-blue shutters that had probably seen better days—but somehow it worked.
It was chaos. Organized chaos. Colorful, loud, a little worn down. Just like her.
She shoved the door open with her hip.
"Mom's not home. She's on a retreat or something with crystals and Wi-Fi detox. It's a whole thing," Zani said, tossing her backpack onto the couch without looking.
I stepped inside slowly, taking it in. The living room was full of books, half-finished art projects, a lava lamp, and—was that a sword?
"I call it homey with a sprinkle of feral," she said, toeing off her shoes. "Kitchen's there, bathroom's that way, don't open the closet with the unicorn sticker unless you want trauma."
I didn't ask.
I followed her up the stairs. Her room was the third door on the left.
And wow.
Her room looked like a unicorn had a nervous breakdown and decorated with the remains.
There were LED lights hanging in loops on the ceiling, glow-in-the-dark stars, posters of girly pop and K-pop idols and olivia Rodrigo guts poster . The bed was unmade but covered in blankets and pillows of every color. Stickers on the walls. A whiteboard with unintelligible scribbles and one corner that just said:
> "Shin's Soul – Currently Stolen. Status: COMPLICATED."
I stared.
What?
"Welcome to the lair," she said, flopping onto the bed and patting the space beside her. "Ignore the mess. It's curated."
"…What exactly am I doing here?"
"Vibing. Being mysterious. Letting me psychoanalyze you while we eat cereal. Pick your poison."
I didn't sit. I stood awkwardly in the middle of the room while she kicked her feet up like this was the most normal thing in the world.
She looked at me and grinned. "You're like a cat that got dragged into a rave."
"I shouldn't be here."
"But you are."
I hated that she was right.
And for some reason, that room—mess and glitter and all—felt safer than anywhere else I'd been all week.
My eyes lingered on the whiteboard again.
"Shin's Soul – Currently Stolen. Status: COMPLICATED."
What the hell did that even mean?
I wanted to ask. The words almost made it to my mouth.
But I didn't. Of course I didn't. I just stayed me—quiet, observant, full of questions I never asked.
Then my gaze shifted, caught something unexpected.
A few manga volumes stacked sloppily by her nightstand. The covers were bright and dramatic—Chainsaw Man, Spy x Family, even a random volume of Blue Lock like it wandered in by mistake.
I walked over slowly, squinting. One of them still had the receipt sticking out like a makeshift bookmark.
"You got manga?" I asked, confused. "You don't even watch anime."
She rolled over on her bed and grinned up at me, upside down. "Yup! Since you loved them, I wanted to know what the hype was about."
My brain tripped over itself.
"Why?"
She shrugged. "I dunno. You talk about them sometimes. Not out loud, but like… your eyes do. I figured there's gotta be something special about 'em."
I blinked.
No one had ever… cared like that before. Not about something I liked. Not enough to go out and try it for themselves.
I picked up one of the volumes, flipped through it, trying not to look stunned.
"Also," she continued, already bouncing up from the bed, "we can read 'em together! But first—video game time!"
She dove for her console like it was a race. Set it up in seconds. Snacks appeared out of nowhere—chips, soda, some off-brand fruit snacks that may or may not have been alive.
"We're playing Overcooked 2," she declared proudly. "Because I want to see if we can run a kitchen or destroy our friendship in five minutes flat."
"You play video games?"
"Do I look like I have coordination?" she said, laughing as she handed me a controller. "But I try. Especially when it's chaotic and dumb and makes me laugh till I cry. So yes."
I hesitated. Then sat next to her.
She held the controller like a weapon. "You play, right?"
"Yeah," I muttered, trying to hide the small flicker of a smile.
She didn't notice. Or maybe she did and pretended not to.
The game loaded. The chaotic music started.
Zani immediately screamed, "I DON'T KNOW HOW TO MAKE SUSHI BUT I'M THROWING RICE AT EVERYONE."
It was a disaster.
And somehow… the most fun I'd had in a long time.
After several rounds losing and winning, we finally got tired and ended up in her....bed.
It's not what you're thinking. I mean this is zani plus it's weird to even think about that .
We were lying on our stomachs, heads too close, a Chainsaw Man volume propped open between us.
Zani was not… reading quietly.
"Okay, wait—why is this guy half-chainsaw? Like, was that a personal decision or…?"
"He made a contract with a devil," I mumbled.
"A devil? Like, Satan devil or anime devil?"
"Anime devil."
"Oh. Right. That clears everything up."
She squinted hard at the next page. Her brow furrowed like she was solving a murder.
"…Why does this girl look like she's nice but I feel like she's definitely evil?"
I tried not to smile. "Because she is."
"I KNEW IT. She has the evil bangs. Anime girls with bangs are always hiding something."
I hummed in agreement.
We kept reading. Or well—I read. She continued her... commentary.
"Wait—why is he crying? He just got a hug. Shouldn't he be happy?"
I paused. "…Because that's the first time anyone's ever hugged him."
She blinked.
Then blinked again.
Then grabbed a nearby throw pillow and screamed into it.
"This is rude. This manga is rude. Why would you let me read this?!"
"You literally picked it up yourself."
"And I didn't know I was signing up for emotional pain!"
She glared at the page. "He better get more hugs. Like fifty. From therapy dogs."
I snorted.
She turned to me. "Do you like this because you relate to him?"
My hand froze on the next page.
"…No."
She stared.
"Liar," she whispered dramatically.
I tried to ignore the warmth crawling up my neck.
Then she pointed to another character. "Okay, okay—what's this guy's deal? Why is he like… a sad raccoon with rage issues?"
"He's Aki. His family was killed by a devil."
"See?" she shouted. "Trauma. TRAUMA EVERYWHERE."
"Welcome to seinen manga."
She rolled onto her back, groaning. "I just wanted to read something cool and now I'm emotionally attached to a dude with a literal chainsaw face and a cigarette girl with commitment issues."
She looked at me.
"I'm never letting you recommend things to me again."
"You picked this."
"Shhh," she hissed. "Let me blame you. My heart needs someone to blame."
Then, quieter:
"…Thanks for sharing this, by the way."
I glanced at her.
She was smiling.
A real one this time.
Not chaotic. Not explosive.
Just soft. Warm.
Real.
I didn't say anything.
But my heart? Was making some funny feelings..
I turned the page slower, so she could keep up.
Even if she asked fifty more questions.
Even if she kept making fun of it.
Even if she never understood panel direction.
I'd keep reading with her.
Even if she fell asleep halfway through.
Especially then.