The late summer heat hung over the city like a wet towel. Pavement shimmered under the sun, the air itself heavy with the scent of gasoline and dust. In the heart of a cluttered, aging neighborhood lined with convenience stores and crumbling apartment blocks, Renji Kuroda stood still, plastic grocery bag in hand, staring blankly at a building that barely passed as habitable.
Renji Kuroda was 20 years old, but he moved like someone carrying twice his age on his shoulders. His eyes were perpetually tired, the kind of tired that sleep couldn't fix. He hadn't always been like this—at least he didn't think so—but the last few months had drained what little energy he had left. His parents were in a coma after a car accident since he was 18. His brother and sister, both married and burdened with their own carefully managed lives, had made it clear they had no time nor patience for a "parasite" like him.
So he found himself here. In a building with flaking paint, stained hallways, and a questionable smell that lingered even with the windows open. His apartment was small—one bedroom, one bathroom, a tiny kitchenette, and a single window that overlooking a dingy, dimly lit alley.
He was at the counter, digging through his backpack for money to pay for his belongings, when he spotted her.
A girl—dirty, scrawny, probably no more than 14 years old—was standing inside a Bright Mart (a budget knockoff of a 7-Eleven). She held a couple of strawberry granola bars, her eyes darting nervously to the cashier. Her clothes were more dirt than fabric.
Without thinking, Renji stepped forward.
"Hey," he said, his voice flat but loud enough to catch her attention. "You planning on paying for that?"
She froze. Her glare could've peeled paint.
Renji didn't even flinch. He walked over, gently but firmly grabbed the girl's arm, and led her to the counter. "Charge it all together" he told the clerk, pulling out some crumpled bills. Paying for instant soup and a soda next to the girl's snacks, Renji went to the refrigerator and added a juice in for her.
The cashier, used to stranger things, just nodded and rang it up. The girl yanked her arm free the moment the bag changed hands.
"What the hell is your problem, old man?!" she barked, clutching the food to her chest like a wild animal. "You think I owe you now or something? What are you, some creepy pervert?!"
Renji raised an eyebrow, exhaled slowly.
"You're welcome."
She stormed out. He followed.
They sat in the shade of a rusted playground structure in a nearby park. The girl ate like she hadn't seen food in days, which, Renji suspected, might have been true.
"the name's Renji. What's your name?"
"None of your business," she said with a mouthful of rice.
"Alright."
Silence hung between them. Kids laughed in the distance, a dog barked somewhere out of sight.
Eventually, she spoke again.
"Ichika. Ichika Fushimi."
"Ichika," he repeated. "You homeless?"
She scowled. "Ran away. The orphanage sucks. Nobody wants me. I'm better off alone."
"Uh-huh." Renji stood up and brushed off his pants. "You want to crash at my place? I have an extra futon, It's not much, but it's better than a bench."
Ichika stared at him as if he had grown a second head.
"like if hell I'll go with a pervert" she muttered, pulling her knees to her chest. "Go away."
"If you say so." Renji walked off without another word.
The apartment was quiet as always. He microwaved instant noodles, sat at the low table in silence, and ate with mechanical indifference. The sun dipped below the horizon. The shadows in the corners of the room deepened.
Then—a knock.
Renji opened the door.
Ichika stood there, face flushed red, fists clenched.
"is the futon still available?" asked shyly, looking away embarrassed. She followed him from afar, wanting to see where le lived just in case.
"...Didn't you say I was a pervert?" said Renji with a smirk.
"You probably are. But I'm cold." she muttered, eyes darting away. "Y-You better not snore, And if you try anything weird, I'll scream so loud the cops will arrest you just for existing."
Renji blinked. He stepped aside, letting her in.
"You coming in or what?"
She walked in like a stray cat, suspicious but desperate.
Ichika stomped past him into the apartment, throwing her small backpack to the floor.
Renji closed the door behind her. For the first time in a long while, the room felt less empty. So it's a start…
To Be Continued…