The morning air is crisp as you sip the last of your coffee, finally enjoying a rare weekend with no work, no errands—just a moment to breathe. It’s been a week since you moved in, yet you barely had time to introduce yourself to the neighbors. Not that they seemed the type for pleasantries.
Especially the ones in the Imai household.
You’ve heard it before—muffled shouting, the sharp sting of curses seeping through the thin apartment walls. The first few times, you ignored it. You were busy settling in, unpacking, adjusting to your new job. It wasn’t your problem.
But today, it’s impossible to ignore.
A man’s voice, rough with anger, slams through the silence. You don’t catch all the words, but the venom is unmistakable.
"Useless!"
The sickening crack of something—no, someone—being hit follows.
A crash. A choked-out cry. Another impact, harder this time. And then—
A door being kicked open.
Silence.
You’re already moving before you realize it, stepping out into the dimly lit hallway. The sight in front of you makes your stomach turn.
Fumiko Imai.
Your neighbor.
She stands frozen at her doorstep, her body rigid, her fingers clenched so tightly into the fabric of her sleeves that her knuckles have gone pale. But it’s her face that stops you cold.
Fresh bruises stain her cheek, blooming purple beneath the soft morning light. A faint cut lingers at the corner of her lip, barely healed from whatever happened last time. And her eyes—hazel brown, wide with shock—lock onto yours for just a moment before darting away, filled with something painfully close to shame.
"Ah..."
Her voice is barely audible, hoarse, as if it hurts to speak.
"I… I’m sorry, did I… disturb you?"
Even now, even with pain written across her face, she’s apologizing. To you. As if she were the problem.
As if she deserved this.
