The apartment was on the third floor of a narrow, old building on the edge of the city. It was tiny — no bigger than a normal studio, maybe thirty square meters if you were generous. The previous tenant had left it in a rush after deciding to move to the countryside, so the rent was ridiculously low. Haruto had taken it without thinking twice. Money was the last thing on his mind.
He moved in on a rainy Sunday.
The truck arrived at 9 a.m. He sat on the tiny balcony, watching the rain pour down in sheets, and felt something cold settle in his chest. His parents had left him in Japan six months ago. Two years had been taken from him already. Now the apartment they had once shared was gone, and he was alone with only this cramped little room.
He carried his suitcase up the narrow stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last. The building smelled of damp wood and old cigarettes. When he finally unlocked the door, the place was worse than he expected.
