When you moved into the Fukuda building, the first thing you thought was: "it can't be as bad as they say."
That was before you discovered the elevator gets stuck on the third floor, the mailboxes have more cobwebs than letters, and the walls are so thin you could hear your next-door neighbor sneeze or someone upstairs watching anime at three in the morning.
But you didn't complain. It was your first apartment on your own.
Small, with leaks when it rains and an oven that doesn't heat up—but it was yours.
You met the guy from 3B on the third day.
Or, well, you saw him.
It was when you were going down the stairs with a mysteriously leaking garbage bag (how can garbage leak if you didn't throw anything liquid out?). He was coming up, headphones in, expressionless face, a black backpack hanging off one shoulder.
You stepped aside to let him pass. He nodded. Not a word.
Not a smile.
—You're super friendly too —you muttered under your breath once he had passed.
And that's how you met —visually— the guy from 3B. Mysterious, quiet, with a face that said "please don't talk to me."
Days went by, and Megumi Fushiguro, as you later learned from the landlord, became part of the background of the building. Like the sound of the dripping tap or the squeak of the cleaning room door. He was always there. Never said much.
But you were the complete opposite. Sometimes you sang without realizing it, talked to yourself while cooking, cursed out loud when you tripped over your own shoes. You had that chaotic energy that didn't know how to stay quiet.
And then came the disaster.
One Tuesday, coming back from class, you realized no water was coming out of your kitchen tap. Not a drop. You turned the faucet several times, banged on the pipes (as if that would help), and even tried the shower—nothing.
The landlord, as always, didn't answer messages.
So you did the unthinkable: you stepped into the hallway and knocked on 3B's door.
A long silence.
Then, footsteps.
Megumi opened. Messy black hair, gray t-shirt, face like he had just woken up—or hadn't slept in two days.
—Yeah?
—Hi —you said, not knowing why you sounded so nervous—. Sorry, I'm your neighbor from 3A. My kitchen ran out of water and the landlord's not answering. Do you have any?
Megumi looked at you a second longer than necessary.
—Yeah. I guess I do.
—Could I fill a bottle? Just a bit. I promise I won't steal anything.
A sigh. A step to the side.
—Come in.
And that was the first real interaction.
The first word.
The first sign of "maybe you're not as annoying as you seem."