Returning to Apartment 301 was an exercise in applied spatial geometry.
Kaito's genkan now housed Kaito's worn sneakers, Mai's elegant leather shoes, and Futaba's school loafers.
Kaito closed the door, locking out the outside world, but unfortunately, locking the problem inside.
The air inside the apartment smelled of bleach—a vestige of Fia's penance—and stale instant noodles.
"Welcome to my base of operations," Kaito said, kicking off his shoes and shoving them into a corner. "Don't mind the decor. The theme is Minimalist Survival with Touches of Annoying Divinity."
Rio Futaba entered timidly, hugging her backpack. She looked around, her eyes behind thick glasses analyzing the cramped space.
"It is... compact," she observed, voice low.
"It is a glorified shoebox," corrected Mai, who was already inside, sitting at the kotatsu table with the natural ease of someone who pays the rent. "But it has a roof, which is a significant upgrade over the cybercafé cubicle."
"WHO DARES ENTER THE CHOSEN ONE'S DOMAIN?!"
The bathroom door opened with a dramatic bang. Fia emerged, holding a toilet brush like a royal scepter. She was still wearing the makeshift apron made from an old towel.
Fia stopped, blinking, upon seeing the new addition to the apartment's cast. She looked at Futaba. Futaba looked at Fia.
"Science..." Fia murmured, narrowing her eyes.
"Magic..." Futaba whispered, taking a step back, the scientific logic of her brain short-circuiting at the sight of a pink-haired girl floating two inches off the ground.
"This is Fia," Kaito introduced, walking past them toward the kitchen to get water. "Guide-Goddess, source of headaches, and currently, unpaid cleaner. Fia, this is Rio Futaba. Scientist, quantum anomaly, and currently, homeless."
"The System says you have 'S-Level Intelligence' but 'F-Level Self-Esteem'! Fascinating! You are the polar opposite of Koga-san!"
"Tanaka... what is this? A solid hologram? A collective hallucination induced by a gas leak?"
"She is real," Mai said, resting her chin on her hand.
"And she talks too much," Kaito added. "Fia, go back to the closet or turn invisible. You are scaring the refugee."
"But I want to see the dichotomy!" Fia protested. "The other Futaba is posting provocative photos and this one is dressed like a librarian! It is the Duality Paradox!"
Futaba flinched visibly at the mention of the "other." She sat in the farthest corner of the room, pulling her knees to her chest.
Kaito sighed. The energy in the room was heavy. There was trauma, divine curiosity, cynical analysis (Mai), and exhaustion (him).
"Dinner," Kaito announced. "I have eggs. I have rice. And I have the will not to starve. Whoever wants to eat, eat. Whoever doesn't, photosynthesize."
Dinner was a quiet, strange event. Kaito prepared tamagoyaki and white rice, serving everything in plastic bowls. They ate sitting on the floor around the low table.
Fia, in her physical form (because she insisted she needed to taste the Chosen One's cooking to "analyze the nutrients"), ate with enthusiasm. Futaba ate slowly, as if the food were a suspicious chemical experiment. Mai ate with elegance, even using disposable chopsticks.
When the bowls were empty, the logistical reality of the night set in.
Kaito checked the digital clock on the wall. 10:15 PM.
He stood up, collecting the bowls.
"Very well," he said, taking the dishes to the sink. "The emergency shelter is closing its social activities. Futaba is displaced, so she stays. Mai..."
He turned to the actress, who was finishing her tea.
"...Your home is fifty meters from here. It is a luxury apartment. It has a king-size bed, central air conditioning, and an absence of noisy goddesses. It was a pleasure. Bye."
Mai placed her cup on the table with a soft sound. She didn't move. She didn't even grab her bag.
"No," she said.
The word was simple, calm, and absolute.
Kaito stopped with the sponge in his hand. "What do you mean 'no'? I am not issuing an invitation. I am issuing a friendly eviction order."
"I am not leaving," Mai repeated, crossing her legs and adjusting her skirt. "Look at her, Kaito."
She pointed discreetly at Futaba. She was curled up in the corner, staring at nothing, looking so fragile a strong breeze could disintegrate her.
"She just got kicked out of her own life by another version of herself," Mai whispered, so Futaba wouldn't hear. "She is in shock. If I leave, she stays here alone. With you."
"And what is the problem?" Kaito whispered back, offended. "I am harmless. I am the most sexually disinterested person in this hemisphere."
"It's not about you being a pervert. It's about the atmosphere," Mai explained. "She needs female support. She needs someone to talk to if she has a nightmare. And frankly, Kaito, your capacity for emotional comfort is equivalent to an ice cube. If she cries in the middle of the night, you will probably offer her an instruction manual or throw a pillow at her to muffle the sound."
Kaito opened his mouth to protest, but closed it. Her analysis was annoyingly accurate. If Futaba started crying, his reaction would indeed be to cover his head with the duvet and turn up the volume on his headphones.
"Besides," Mai continued, an amused glint in her eyes, "I've showered here before. My toothbrush is still in the cabinet. Technically, I have squatters' rights."
"Squatters' rights don't work like that!" Kaito retorted. "And three people in a 20-square-meter apartment violates the laws of physics and sanity!"
"Four people," Fia corrected, raising her hand. "Don't forget Divinity."
Kaito looked at the trio. The Goddess of Chaos, the Depressive Scientist, and the Stubborn Actress.
He was surrounded. Defeated by numerical superiority and emotional blackmail.
"How..." he threw the sponge into the sink with force, "...infernally troublesome."
He dried his hands on his pants. "Fine. You win. The occupation is permitted for tonight. But we have a logistical problem: I have one bed. One."
Kaito's apartment had a strange layout. The living room/kitchen was where they were. There was a sliding door leading to the only bedroom, where his single bed was—slightly wider than standard, but definitely not a double bed.
Futaba lifted her head, seeming to realize the problem for the first time. "I... I can sleep on the floor. Or in the bathtub."
"Absolutely not," Mai said. "You are the victim here, Rio. You need comfort."
"I'll sleep on the ceiling!" Fia offered. "Sleepwalking levitation!"
"You sleep in the closet," Kaito cut in. "That is non-negotiable. Your snoring is divine, which means it echoes."
Fia pouted, but grabbed her pillow and marched to the broom closet. "Good night, plebeians. I will dream of a golden temple." The door closed.
Three remained.
Kaito looked at Mai. Looked at Futaba. Looked at the bed visible through the open door.
"The logical solution," Kaito began, voice calm, "is segregation by gender and need for comfort."
He pointed to the bedroom.
"You two. Bed. Now."
Futaba's eyes widened behind her glasses. "What? Me and... Sakurajima-san? In the same bed? But... but..." She looked at her own body, hidden under her blouse and baggy pants. "I... I take up space. And I... am not..."
"You are a girl, she is a girl. It is a bed. The math is simple," Kaito said, relentless. "Mai is thin. You are compact. You fit. If you spoon, there's even space for a cat, if we had one."
"Kaito!" Mai scolded him, though she was holding back laughter at Futaba's red face.
"I am not sleeping in the bed while you sleep on the floor!" Futaba protested, standing up. "It is your apartment, Tanaka!"
"It is my apartment, and therefore, my rules," Kaito crossed his arms. "And the rule is: I value my sleep. If you sleep on the living room floor, I will trip over you if I go to drink water at night. That is a safety hazard. If you sleep in the bathtub, you will wake up with back pain and complain tomorrow, which will pollute my auditory environment."
He went to the corner of the room, where his beanbag throne sat. He opened the built-in closet in the living room wall and pulled out a sleeping bag and an extra blanket.
"I take the beanbag," he declared. "It is ergonomic. It molds to my despair. It is perfect."
"But Kaito..." Mai started, with a tone suggesting she felt a little guilty.
"No 'buts'. Go to the room. Close the door. Turn off the light. If I hear a peep, I will release Fia into your room."
The threat was effective.
Futaba looked at Mai, uncertain. Mai sighed, stood up, and placed a hand gently on Futaba's shoulder.
"Let's go, Rio. No use arguing with him when he enters 'Logistics Manager Mode'. Besides, his bed is surprisingly comfortable for someone who looks like they sleep on the floor."
Mai guided a reluctant and blushing Futaba into the bedroom.
"Good night, Kaito," Mai said, before closing the sliding door.
"Good night is an optimistic concept," Kaito grumbled.
The door closed. The bedroom light went out, visible through the crack at the floor.
Kaito was alone in the dark living room, lit only by the city lights coming through the window.
He lay down.
The apartment was silent.
From the entrance closet came the soft sound of Fia's breathing.
From the bedroom, he heard the sound of springs creaking slightly, followed by muffled whispers.
"...Are you sure you don't want the wall side, Rio?" (Mai's voice). "...Whatever. I just... sorry about this. I am a nuisance." (Futaba's voice). "Don't be silly. Now sleep. Tomorrow we solve your identity crisis."
Kaito stared at the dark ceiling.
His sanctuary had been violated. His bed was occupied by two girls (which, in any other context, would be a normal teenager's dream and the start of a generic harem anime, but for Kaito was just an annoying geographic displacement). His bathroom smelled of chlorine. And he was sleeping on a bag of beans.
He closed his eyes, trying to summon sleep through sheer willpower.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow he would have to deal with the "Other Futaba." The version with the ponytail and toxic self-confidence. He would have to unite the two halves.
"I need a raise," Kaito thought, as sleep finally took him, cradled by the discomfort of his own furniture. "Or a new bed. Definitely a new bed."
Inside the bedroom, Futaba lay stiff as a board, staring at Mai Sakurajima's back. The smell of Kaito's pillow was neutral, almost nonexistent, but his presence in the apartment seemed to fill everything.
"He is strange," Futaba whispered in the dark.
Mai, who seemed to already be asleep, replied with a sleepy voice:
"He is the only kind of strange that works for us, Rio. Now sleep."
Futaba closed her eyes. For the first time in days, she wasn't alone in a cybercafé cubicle. And, despite everything, the idiot's pillow was actually comfortable.
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