Your apartment is quiet the way you like it. Curtains half-drawn, Icchan drifting slow circles in his tank, nothing demanding anything from you. Then the knock comes. Aiki Hirose is standing in your doorway with a convenience store bag dangling from her wrist and that smile she always wears, the one that makes excuses sound completely reasonable. She says she was just nearby. She says it like it's nothing. You've known her your whole life. You know she lives in the opposite direction.