Yoichi stood at the top of the floating glass staircase, surveying the common area below. The penthouse had that particular stillness of a space too large for the number of people inhabiting it. A hint of pride crept into his chest as he considered what he'd accomplished upstairs—transforming that clothing war zone into something actually habitable.
Hours of sorting through fabrics, organizing makeup, cataloging scripts, and arranging shoes had left him with a fine sheen of sweat. His shirt, discarded sometime around hour two when the temperature in the room became unbearable, was still upstairs. He'd deal with that later.
He descended the stairs, each bare foot making a soft sound against the cool glass. The living room came fully into view. Ichika lounged on the sectional sofa, legs tucked underneath her as she scrolled through her phone. Beside her sat a girl with short orange hair and an oversized green ribbon—Yotsuba, if he remembered correctly. She bounced slightly in her seat, radiating the kinetic energy of someone who never truly sat still.
Yoichi stopped at the base of the stairs, crossing his arms over his bare chest. "I'm done," he announced without fanfare, his voice flat. He jerked his thumb toward the ceiling. "Your room is clean. Clothes are sorted in three baskets by the door: whites, colors, and delicates." He stared directly at Ichika. "The laundry is your problem."
Ichika looked up from her phone, subtle surprise flickering across her face. "Already?" She tucked a strand of her short pink hair behind her ear. "I thought you'd be up there until dinner at least."
"I work fast."
"Clearly." Her eyes drifted over his torso, then back to his face, her lips curving into a small, bemused smile.
"YOU'RE NAKED!"
Yotsuba's voice shattered the moment like a hammer through glass. She sat bolt upright, her blue eyes cartoonishly wide, her finger pointing at Yoichi's chest as if he'd committed some heinous crime. Her face turned a shade of red that nearly matched her hair.
Ichika didn't bother looking up from her phone. "He's wearing pants, Yotsuba."
"But—but—" Yotsuba stammered, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
Yoichi shrugged. "It got hot cleaning up a natural disaster zone."
Yotsuba's eyes remained locked on his abs, her brain visibly short-circuiting.
"How was track practice?" he asked.
The question acted like a reset button. Yotsuba's eyes snapped up to his face, her expression clearing instantly.
She jumped to her feet, ribbon bobbing with the sudden movement.
"It was amazing! Coach said I might break the school record for the 200-meter dash this year if I keep my pace up and I did ten extra laps to work on my stamina and my relay hand-off is getting super smooth and everyone kept saying they want me as anchor for the team event next month and—"
She took a giant breath, then continued even faster, "—I just have to make sure I don't fail my next history exam or I'll be academically ineligible for the meet, but that's totally not gonna happen! Probably!"
Their father had mentioned something about tutoring, but Yoichi hadn't wasted brain cells on the specifics.
"That's unfortunate," he said flatly.
"I know, right?" Yotsuba's smile faltered for a nanosecond before returning to full wattage. "But I'll figure it out! I always do! Kind of!"
Ichika stood up, stretching her arms above her head. "Well, since my servant has finished his duties for the afternoon, I'm feeling a little bored." She glanced at Yoichi with a half-smile. "I think I'll go shopping. Get some new clothes to mess up my newly pristine room."
Yotsuba's eyes lit up like sparklers. "Shopping? Can I come? Please please please?" She clasped her hands together. "I need new running shoes anyway!"
"Sure, why not?" Ichika reached for her phone. "I'll text Nino and Itsuki, see if they want to meet us." She tapped away at the screen, then looked up at Yoichi. "What's your number? I'll add you to the family group chat."
"My phone's upstairs. I need to change anyway."
Without waiting for a response, he turned and headed back up the stairs. In his room, he pulled a fresh black t-shirt from his nearly empty portion of the massive closet and tugged it on. The fabric was worn thin in spots, soft from hundreds of washes. He retrieved his phone from the nightstand and stared at it for a long moment.
The device might as well have come from another century compared to the sleek models everyone carried around these days. Its screen was a spiderweb of cracks, the plastic casing scratched and worn smooth at the corners. The power button stuck occasionally. The battery lasted maybe four hours on a good day.
But it was his. Paid for with his own money, from his own work.
He headed back downstairs, finding Ichika and Yotsuba deep in conversation about which mall had the best sneaker selection. He wordlessly held out his phone to Ichika.
She reached for it automatically, then froze when it touched her palm. She stared at the device, turning it over in her hands as if she'd been handed some ancient artifact.
"Why didn't you just buy a new one?" she asked, looking up at him. "This phone is at least six years old."
"Couldn't afford it."
He nodded toward the phone. "That took me a year of delivering newspapers and stocking shelves at the corner store to save up for."
Ichika looked down at the cracked device in her hand, then back at Yoichi.
"Here," she said, handing it back. "I'll just put my number in." She rattled off the digits, watching as Yoichi typed them into his contacts with his thumb and sent a hello.
Yotsuba bounced back to life, breaking the tension. "Me too! Add me too!" She recited her number twice as fast as necessary, making Yoichi punch in the wrong digits and start over.
Ichika pulled her purse from behind the sofa cushion. "We should get going if we want to hit the mall before it gets too crowded." She cocked her head at Yoichi. "Coming with us, Yoichi?"
"Pass." Yoichi slid his phone into his pocket. "I've fulfilled my obligation for today."
"Oh no," Ichika wagged her finger. "The deal was for the weekend. That's two full days. Tomorrow too."
Yoichi's jaw tightened. "Fine. But I'm done for today."
"Fair enough. You did clean the tenth circle of hell." She grabbed her jacket from the back of the sofa. "But you might want to come anyway. You could use some new clothes."
Yoichi glanced down at his worn t-shirt. "These work fine."
"They're falling apart."
"They cover what needs covering."
Ichika studied him, that same unreadable expression crossing her face. "We could buy you a new phone too. It would be easy."
"Not interested."
"Why not? That thing looks like it survived a war. Barely."
Yoichi's voice remained even. "It works."
"Barely," Ichika repeated.
Yotsuba bounced over to Yoichi, entering his personal space. "But wouldn't you like a new one? With a camera that actually takes good pictures? And battery that lasts all day? And apps that don't crash every five seconds?"
"I don't take pictures. I don't use many apps. And I keep my charger with me."
Yotsuba tilted her head, her green ribbon shifting with the movement. "But why do you want to keep using a broken phone when you could have a new one?"
Yoichi's gaze hardened slightly. "Because it's mine."
Something in his tone must have conveyed the finality of his answer, because even Yotsuba didn't push further. She backed away a step, her usual energy dimming.
Ichika broke the awkward silence. "Well, the offer stands if you change your mind. About shopping or the phone."
"I won't," Yoichi said.
He watched as they gathered their things, Yotsuba chattering about the shoes she wanted to buy, Ichika texting the other sisters about their plans.
The door closed behind them, and Yoichi was alone in the massive penthouse. He stood motionless for a moment, then crossed to the glass wall that overlooked Tokyo. The city spread out below him like a circuit board, lights blinking on as dusk approached.
His finger traced one of the cracks in his phone screen.
The year he'd spent saving for this phone had been one of the worst of his life. His mother had been in and out of the hospital. Bills piled up. The landlord threatened eviction twice. Yoichi had worked three part-time jobs, attending school with bleary eyes and an empty stomach.
But the phone was necessary. It was for emergencies. For his mother to reach him when her condition worsened. For the hospital to call him when things went critical.
Yoichi's reflection stared back at him from the window.
He'd kill for a smoke right now. A habit from his past life working the late shift at the corner store with the assistant manager who always shared his cigarettes. But that was a luxury he couldn't afford anymore. Not after spending his last bit of cash on the train ticket to Tokyo.
His stomach rumbled, reminding him of Ichika's parting words. Leftover curry. Maybe he would eat after all.
As he walked toward the kitchen, his phone buzzed in his pocket.
"Added you to the family chat. Don't mute it or Itsuki will give you a lecture about rudeness that will make you wish you were dead. Trust me on this. – Ichika"
Seconds later, another message pinged through.
"P.S. Whatever that song was... it was good. Really good."
Yoichi stared at the message. His thumb hovered over the screen, ready to type a response. Then he slipped the phone back into his pocket without replying.
===
Ichika walked beside Yotsuba through the crowded mall, half-listening to her sister's enthusiastic commentary on every store window they passed. Her mind kept drifting back to the boy they'd left at the penthouse.
She'd recognized something in Yoichi's eyes when he handed her that broken phone. A fierce, stubborn pride she understood all too well. The way he'd refused their offer of a new phone wasn't about the phone at all.
And that song... who was he, really? What was his story?
"Ichika! Are you listening?" Yotsuba tugged at her sleeve.
"Hmm?"
"I asked if you think Yoichi will like it here. With us."
Ichika considered the question. "I'm not sure he wants to."
"Why not? We're super fun!" Yotsuba spun in a circle.
"I don't think 'fun' is what he's looking for."
"What is he looking for then?"
Ichika remembered his cracked phone, the worn clothes, the fierce pride in his voice when he'd said "It's mine."
"I think he's looking for something that's his," she said softly. "Something that can't be taken away."
Yotsuba's brow furrowed in confusion, but before she could respond, Ichika spotted Nino and Itsuki waving from outside a shoe store.
"There they are," she said, pointing. "Come on."
As they walked toward their sisters, Ichika made a mental note to ask her manager about voice lessons. She had a hunch Yoichi's talents might extend beyond cleaning up clothing disasters.
No more what ifs...