Gotou Hitori stood in front of the bathroom mirror, its surface spotted with water stains. He'd just splashed his face, but he still looked weak—and all of a sudden, he gagged again.
This was an old problem of his.
Any time he got dragged into something like a staff gathering, the sheer number of people would make him physically unwell.
After all, what kind of socially anxious person enjoys being buried in a crowd?
Compared to the noisy chaos out there, he'd much rather stay in this bathroom where he could be alone. Even if it meant being some gloomy, damp little rat in here, it was still ten thousand times better than going back out to deal with a drinking party full of forced smiles and clinking glasses.
But reality was always cruel. Sometimes, even being a rat was a luxury.
If he stayed in the bathroom too long, his coworkers might notice.
He barely spoke at work in the first place—his social presence in the shop was basically zero. If he also got labeled as some "too proud" loner who looked down on everyone, he didn't need to imagine how miserable his days would become after that.
Gotou Hitori let out a tired sigh. He found himself missing his student days again.
Back then, he would've rather soaked every day in a bathtub full of ice, offering up every New Year's gift envelope he'd saved since birth. He'd rather stay home and be cursed as a useless freeloader than come out to work.
And yet now, he was just another beast of burden in the workforce—paid a pittance, stuck in an endless six-days-on-one-day-off grind. Even when he finally got a chance to breathe, he still had to get dragged out to smile politely and eat with everyone in this hellish routine.
How long was this dull, colorless life going to go on?
Even he couldn't answer that.
All he knew was that he had to return to that seat that made his skin crawl, and wait quietly for the gathering to end.
Just hang on a little longer, Gotou Hitori.
You're a grown adult now, aren't you?
It's just a staff dinner. Push it back with your invincible social energy!
He silently cheered himself on, then walked out of the bathroom with the solemnity of someone marching to the battlefield.
Unfortunately, he died before he even won the first fight.
The determination he'd just mustered vanished in an instant when a few high school girls at the next table started sneaking glances at him. His face threatened to fly apart, and his courage evaporated like a wisp of smoke.
Stay calm…
Stay calm…
He repeated it over and over in his head, shrinking into a corner seat and sitting there stiffly until the loud, chaotic party finally came to an end.
When he stepped outside, a fine drizzle had started. The cold evening wind ruffled the bangs on his forehead, sneaking into his sleeves like an invisible mouse and making him shiver.
He stood alone under the izakaya's awning, watching pedestrians pass by with umbrellas.
He rummaged through his bag for a long time and found no umbrella—only a few shopping district discount coupons.
And a pair of over-ear headphones he used to avoid talking to people… and, by the way, to hide the fact that he had no friends, so every break at work he'd pull them out like a shield.
…What was this pathetic feeling?
He mocked himself inwardly, wondering if he should just hold his backpack over his head and run for it. The station wasn't that far, after all.
But when he looked up, the rain abruptly intensified—like some reservoir in the clouds had opened its gates, dumping a roaring waterfall onto the streets.
"..."
Gotou Hitori quietly withdrew that idea.
Just as he was about to go back inside and wait a bit longer, he felt someone lightly tap his shoulder.
In that instant, it felt like his soul tried to flee straight out through his throat.
His expression barely changed, but he turned his head stiffly to look at whoever had appeared behind him.
A soft, small face. Eyes that gleamed like expensive amber. Thick, long lashes, and smooth, glossy hair.
One glance was enough to tell she was a rare kind of beautiful.
Gotou Hitori knew her name. She was a new part-timer at the shop—Toyokawa Sakiko. Pretty, poised, and naturally charming… the sort of person everyone liked.
Unfortunately, Gotou Hitori had always been afraid of people who were attractive and socially skilled. Talking to them came with an invisible pressure that crushed his lungs.
He subtly edged back a step.
Sakiko calmly pulled a folding umbrella from her bag and said, her voice pleasant and clear, "Gotou-senpai, we get off at the same station, right? I saw you waiting for the train last time. If you don't mind, I can walk you there."
"..."
What did that mean?
Was she inviting him?
Gotou Hitori's brain went blank.
If "communicating normally with other people" was level fifty, then he was maybe level thirty—barely capable of forcing out a few sentences.
And this situation—being invited by a pretty junior to walk to the station under the same umbrella like some light novel scene—was level ninety-nine. Something that existed only in legend.
What was he supposed to do?
A level ninety-nine super boss.
Could an ordinary villager like him—someone who hadn't even left the tutorial village—really stand against it?
Normally, he survived work by not talking and just nodding his way through everything. There wasn't much to discuss, and silence was safer.
But when someone invited him like this… how was he supposed to respond…?
Would saying too little make her think he was putting on airs? Would saying too much make him lose his "senior" dignity?
Ah…
His head was going to explode.
He should've just run through the rain.
When he didn't answer for too long, Toyokawa Sakiko made the decision for him, unruffled. "If you're not saying anything, I'll take that as yes. Please come with me. Standing here will make you catch a cold. I'll be relying on you tomorrow at work—if you get sick, I'll have a headache handling the shop alone."
She held out her hand and opened a red umbrella. The neon lights on the street mixed with the sudden downpour, shimmering as puddles rippled with blurred reflections that faintly outlined her small figure.
Unlike him, who always wore the same eternally pink tracksuit, this girl's clothes and appearance were meticulous—like a young lady who'd stepped out of a wealthy family.
But if she really was that kind of rich kid… why was she doing such exhausting work?
He'd always been curious, but he knew it was probably her secret, so he'd never asked.
Under her gaze—one that seemed to carry the hint of a smile—he fought a whole war in his head, then finally forced himself to walk over.
That was what social anxiety was, sometimes: a weak creature that couldn't even do something as simple as refusing.
But being bad at socializing didn't mean he was rude.
Gotou Hitori quietly took the umbrella from Sakiko's hand, indicating he would hold it.
Then he angled it toward her, leaving his own shoulder exposed to the rain without caring.
Only after doing that did he speak in a small voice.
"…Thank you."
In the noisy curtain of rain, a voice that was too quiet could easily get swallowed and ignored.
But Toyokawa Sakiko seemed to have excellent ears. Even his faint words didn't escape her.
She lifted the corners of her mouth and gave him a lovely smile.
"Please don't worry about it. It's nothing—just a small favor, desu wa."
Gotou Hitori blinked.
He watched as Sakiko raised a small hand and gently adjusted the umbrella's position.
They walked to the station in silence. Gotou Hitori helped fold the umbrella when they arrived. Outwardly, he still wore an iceberg face.
Inside, his stomach churned.
All the way there, he'd been thinking about how he was supposed to say goodbye. Based on what she'd said, they probably took the same train—which meant they'd be together even after they boarded.
Maybe other people would be happy.
Gotou Hitori was so nervous he wanted to throw up.
Walking shoulder-to-shoulder to the station with a current high school junior already made him feel like every hair on his back was standing on end. If he also had to sit together on the train…
He might actually die and ascend to heaven.
After work, sitting alone on the train with his headphones on, listening to music—that was the best way to relax and chase away fatigue.
With someone else around, there was no way he could relax…
To prevent that from happening, he ran through countless contingency plans in his head, rehearsing lines, deciding when to say them.
In five minutes, I'll speak…
In ten minutes…
Fifteen minutes…
He hesitated until, without realizing it, they'd reached the station—now it was time. He had to open his mouth.
Sweat poured off him. Even his hands trembled as he folded the umbrella.
He felt death drawing closer. His mind started playing a scene where she decided he was terribly rude and looked at him with disgust.
Just as he was about to break, he heard Toyokawa Sakiko speak.
"Gotou-senpai, look over there."
Gotou Hitori lifted his head blankly, following where she pointed.
Several high school students with instrument cases strapped to their backs dashed into the station through the heavy rain.
It was obvious.
A band.
Gotou Hitori froze. The awkwardness on his face slowly smoothed into a strange calm.
The girl didn't notice the change. Her eyes stayed locked on the students with instruments.
Her voice carried a trace of nostalgia, as if she were remembering something beautiful.
"Gotou-senpai, you used to be in a band, right? To be honest… I was inspired to start one after I saw you perform. I've always looked up to you as a senior I respect.
"But later, something happened, and I couldn't keep my band going to the end either… When it comes to failing as a band, I think we might have something in common—"
"I'm sorry," Gotou Hitori said, cutting her off. "I don't really want to hear about that. Could you please stop?"
It was extremely rare.
Gotou Hitori interrupted someone.
And he even managed to finish a full sentence smoothly.
Toyokawa Sakiko realized she'd stepped on a landmine and hurried to salvage it—but Gotou Hitori didn't give her the chance. He returned the umbrella.
"This… you don't need to lend it to me anymore."
"Thank you for the umbrella."
Then he turned and walked straight into the bustling crowd, as if fleeing from something, quickly disappearing from the girl's view.
...
...
...
Gotou Hitori didn't remember how he got home.
All that remained in his head were black, blurry fragments like a low-blood-sugar haze—along with the violent pounding of his heartbeat, drowning out every other sound.
He lay on his bed and sighed, curling up as he pulled the blanket over his entire body.
In his first year of high school, a classmate had dragged him into forming a band.
It wasn't anything like the fantasies he'd had. It was a place that often left him gasping for air.
He tried hard to adapt, but it always felt like there was a wall between him and the other members.
And once they started getting results, everything spiraled completely out of control.
Rehearsals became impossible to organize. His bandmates' private lives grew increasingly messy—sometimes they'd even end up beating each other with their instruments because they'd slept with the same girl.
Watching the band he'd once placed so much hope in crumble piece by piece, Gotou Hitori felt like the world was collapsing in front of him.
From then on, he developed a severe trauma around anything related to bands, and his personality grew even more withdrawn.
He didn't want to touch anything related to bands. He didn't even want to see the word.
Even the guitar he'd once practiced for more than six hours a day—he sealed it away in a cabinet and never took it out again.
That was why, when that beautiful junior started talking to him about bands, he'd reacted so abnormally.
But the moment he remembered how he'd snapped at her, how he'd given her the cold shoulder, how he'd spoken in such a harsh tone (even if it had sounded flat to him)—
"Ah… no, no, no, no… I'm going to die, I'm going to die… why is this so embarrassing…"
"I didn't mean to… please forgive me…"
As he replayed everything he'd done today, Gotou Hitori started tapping his forehead against the wall beside the bed.
He didn't need to be told.
After something like that, she would definitely avoid him. From now on, whenever she saw him, she'd look at him the way someone looked at a bug.
She might even tell everyone at the shop that he repaid kindness with cruelty, that he had no manners…
When he imagined losing his place at work, being branded a total scumbag forever, his stomach churned so violently he ran to the toilet and threw up everything he'd eaten for dinner. Only then did he feel a little better.
"Goodbye… my part-time job life…"
"Goodbye… my peaceful daily routine…"
"Starting tomorrow… I'll probably lose the right to be a human…"
Gotou Hitori lay back on the bed, weakly muttering incoherent words.
Exhausted from the whole day, he soon fell asleep.
He dreamed he'd returned to the home he hadn't seen in so long.
His little sister—now taller—was still all smiles, tugging his arm as she ran to the living room. On the table were his favorite fried chicken bites and a hearty bowl of beef over rice. His father ruffled his hair. His mother held him gently and told him he'd worked hard lately.
It all felt like it had returned to the past.
The guitar he'd sealed away was back in his hands again.
Time fast-forwarded, and fragmented scenes filled every corner.
A faded uniform folded neatly beside him. The squeak of an electric fan. He plucked strings in his room while a few beams of sunlight climbed in through the window to be his audience, and the breeze that lifted the curtains listened along.
Then Jimmy Hen suddenly ran into the room, tail wagging wildly, and dove into his arms, licking him all over.
Drool smeared across his face—wet and uncomfortable.
Gotou Hitori reflexively pushed it away, and the dream shattered.
He opened his eyes groggily.
A girl—apparently still asleep—was resting on his arm, curled up against him like a little bird nestling into his chest.
Her small hands were placed in front of her cheeks, pressing her full chest into a rounder shape. Even through thick pajamas, the sheer scale of it was obvious—something that could only be described as… exceptionally well-funded. Past the loosened collar, he could even see a soft, pinkish expanse of youthful skin.
In his haze, he could feel a few strands of hair tickling his face, carrying the faint scent of shampoo.
…Why does it smell exactly like my shampoo?
Gotou Hitori rubbed his sleepy eyes. He didn't think too hard about it—assuming he was still dreaming—and drifted off again.
About five minutes later—
He shot up out of bed, plastered himself against the wall like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, and stared in horror so intense his face looked like it might fly off.
No!
No, no, no, no, no!
W-why is there a girl in my house?!?!?!
-------
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