Tokyo, Arakawa Ward.
"Whoosh!"
Inside a 24-hour convenience store, the young man pushed a small cart, maneuvering unboxed crates of goods into the storeroom. Ignoring the fine sheen of sweat on his forehead, he adjusted his baseball cap, clutched the delivery manifest, and began cross-checking the mountainous pile of merchandise before him.
He was dressed in a somewhat drab, moss-green convenience store uniform. Beneath the black cap was a face that still held a trace of boyish naivety. He stood around 174 centimeters tall, and although his slender shoulders suggested a fragile, almost delicate build, his fair, handsome features radiated a youthful energy.
"You worked hard, Fujii-kun."
"With this much stuff, I don't know how long it would've taken me alone."
Matsumoto Yuriko, the convenience store manager, a woman in her late thirties, had entered the room at some point. She handed him a bottle of soda, her gaze fixed on Fujii Itsuki with open appreciation.
"Ah, it was nothing, really."
Fujii Itsuki offered a casual pleasantry, wiping the sweat from the corner of his eye with his arm. He took the soda, twisted the cap open, and took several large, refreshing gulps.
It was September, and the tail end of summer had yet to completely recede; Tokyo's weather was brutally hot.
"Slow down, Fujii-kun…" Manager Matsumoto Yuriko smiled sweetly. Her eyes trailed down from the soda residue on his lips, across his smooth, sweat-dampened neck and collarbone, and over his already-soaked, dark-green staff shirt.
Her gaze seemed inclined to travel even further south.
Matsumoto Yuriko gently licked her dry lips and said with a smile, "You're still a student, aren't you, Fujii-kun?"
"Yes, I'm at a junior college."
Fujii Itsuki nodded, tilting his cap to let the heat escape from the top of his head.
"That's so impressive. You work nothing like a student!" Matsumoto Yuriko didn't spare the compliments, her eyes locked on Fujii Itsuki's young, handsome face.
"But a university student should prioritize studies. Why did you choose to take up a part-time job?"
"Well, it's just…" Fujii Itsuki paused, hesitating, "It's some stuff going on at home."
He put on a helpless expression.
Seeing this, Matsumoto Yuriko was tactful enough not to press further.
It was likely either a difficult financial situation requiring him to work to make ends meet, or a family conflict that led him to leave home early and live independently.
In either case, it meant one thing—the young man needed work, and he needed money.
As this thought crossed her mind, a strange, faint feeling arose in Matsumoto Yuriko's heart.
"I see, then."
"Fujii-kun, here is your salary for this month." Matsumoto Yuriko timely pulled out an envelope of cash she had prepared earlier from her pocket.
"Rest assured and continue to work here from now on."
"Yes, thank you for your kind consideration, Manager!" Fujii Itsuki took the envelope and bowed slightly, his gratitude seemingly genuine.
"Manager, I've checked all these goods. The count is correct." He turned to the merchandise stacked in the corner of the storeroom and handed the completed manifest to Matsumoto Yuriko. "If that's all, I'll get back to work."
"Go on, Fujii-kun, you've worked hard today." Matsumoto Yuriko clasped her hands over her chest. Beneath her black pencil skirt, a pair of well-toned, fair legs were visible. Her figure was curvy and well-proportioned. At thirty-seven, she was well-preserved and beautiful; some would even believe her to be a recent university graduate.
Watching the young man's retreating back, Matsumoto Yuriko turned and cast a meaningful glance at the boxes in the storeroom.
Evening, end of shift.
"Ding-dong!"
Accompanying the jingle of the glass storefront door, Fujii Itsuki, now back in his school uniform, slowly exited the convenience store located in Higashi-Ogu.
"Eighty thousand Yen."
Walking down the streets of Higashi-Ogu, Fujii Itsuki tore open the envelope and counted: exactly eight Fukuzawa Yukichi bills (the Japanese 10,000 Yen note), no more, no less.
That meant all his hard work as a part-timer had only earned him about 4,000 RMB for the entire month.
"Sigh—"
Well, he was just a part-timer. The wages and benefits simply couldn't compare to a full-time employee's. Not to mention, Japanese law strictly limits student part-time work to no more than 28 hours per week, and no later than 10 PM on any single day.
Eighty thousand Yen it is.
It was enough for the daily expenses of an average student.
Sighing lightly, Fujii Itsuki put the cash back into the envelope and tucked it into his pocket. He headed to the nearest station to catch the Toden Arakawa Line towards Minami-Senju.
Fujii Itsuki, 18 years old, a transmigrator.
He had been in this world for a little over a month.
He had woken up one day to find himself an unremarkable university student in Tokyo's Arakawa Ward. The original Itsuki was a timid person with mediocre grades and an utterly dismal family situation.
His birth mother had died early, and his father had been getting cozy with a woman who had recently lost her own husband and had two daughters. Before they could even marry, his father was killed in a drunk driving accident one night.
Before his death, and witnessed by a lawyer, his father had entrusted Itsuki and the family assets to the woman whom Itsuki had never met.
After a rushed funeral, the Fujii residence effectively became the domain of the mother and her two daughters. Fujii Itsuki, the only blood relative, was now an outsider living under sufferance, surviving day-to-day by enduring and keeping a low profile.
A newcomer, in a foreign land like Tokyo, starting as a chosen wage slave and a total schmuck. It took Fujii Itsuki a long time to gradually adjust to his current life.
"Clack."
The train doors opened. Fujii Itsuki followed the flow of people out of the station and walked along the Minami-Senju-cho street for about ten minutes before stopping in front of a two-story building.
The Fujii residence was a typical Ikkodate, or detached house—Japan's most traditional two- or three-story, independent Japanese-style home.
It had two stories in total, a small yard, and a ground-floor garage. The homes of characters like Crayon Shin-chan and Nobita in anime are examples of such Ikkodate.
Stepping past the gate plaque engraved with the name "Fujii," Itsuki glanced at the empty garage. His cheap aunt must not be home from work yet.
"Click-clack."
Pulling out the key and unlocking the door, Fujii Itsuki changed into his slippers in the genkan (entryway), ignored the girl watching TV on the living room sofa, and hurried up the stairs with a thump-thump-thump towards his bedroom on the second floor.
Back in his room, he closed the door, tossed the freshly earned salary onto his pillow, and collapsed onto the bed, utterly exhausted.
"Scratch-scratch!"
A slight turning sound came from the doorknob. Immediately after, a teenage girl walked in, looking lively and adorable.
Shimizu Aie, one of his aunt Momono Riko's daughters, was the girl he'd ignored on the sofa.
Shimizu Aie was 18 years old and petite, with a clear and lovely face.
She had a cute, perpetually youthful face full of collagen, and was wearing a pink shirt with denim shorts, her exposed skin fair and delicate. Two gently swaying pigtails were tied behind her head, making her look incredibly playful.
However, the cuteness was merely a façade. Fujii Itsuki was the only one in the world who knew the little devil hidden beneath that sweet exterior.
"Nii-san, you're home!"
"Oh, right, today's payday, isn't it?!"
A bright smile bloomed on Shimizu Aie's delicate face. The next moment, she extended a slender hand right in front of Fujii Itsuki's eyes, using a forceful tone that utterly contradicted her sweet smile: "Hand it over, obediently! Your salary for this month!"